


Shitehead Revisited.

by springburn



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Emotions, Explicit Language, F/M, Holidays, Home Comforts, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Part two of a trilogy, Sequel, angst/feels, past trauma, relationships, shitstorm au, some smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-11 03:44:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 59,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7874899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springburn/pseuds/springburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malcolm and Sam are on holiday.......</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Holibobs.

**Author's Note:**

> A sequel to Shitstorm. (The title is a double whammy.....Malcolm actually refers to Shitehead Revisited in the show, and it's a pun on Shitstorm from the first story)
> 
> This isn't a story as such. 
> 
> There is no beginning or end at the moment. But it gradually develops into a story as it goes along. 
> 
> At first it is a series of small scenes. Not really connected, just vignettes of a given day and a given time somewhere in Europe. 
> 
> Each scene explores Malcolm and Sam's continuing relationship following the Shitstorm story. 
> 
> It is not necessary to have read Shitstorm to get the gist of this story, although obviously it gives background and certain references. But I leave that up to the reader. 
> 
> It takes place during the two years show hiatus between Series Three and Four. When we returned to find Nicola had been leader of the opposition for almost two years whilst the Coalition Government were in power.  
> So they've been together for about eighteen months, and living together for almost a year.
> 
> The final scene uses lyrics from Nightswimming. On the Automatic for the People album by REM.
> 
> This story is the second in the trilogy, Shitstorm being the first. It follows on chronologically from it. The third and final story will follow directly from this one, and be titled 'Malcolm Hamish McDeath.'

HOLIBOBS.

Malcolm narrowed his eyes against the bright sun. 

Squinting, his arm coming up and across his brow ridge to shade his face. 

From his little camp under the large parasol, pushed firmly into the sand, he watched the waves crashing in. 

Not a beach lover, but Sam fancied a day by the sea, and he'd do fucking anything for her. 

Sam was out there now. In the surf. 

Frolicking.

That was what she was doing......no other word for it. Frolicking. 

All wet and sleek, smooth and shiny. Her red bikini clinging to her curves. 

What a fucking turn on! 

Malcolm reached for a towel and wrapped it round his bottom half!

Here she came, walking across the sand, her hips swaying, nipples visible through the wet material, pushing her long hair back from her face. 

Reaching his side, with a puff of exhilaration.

"Oof! That was wonderful! So bracing!" 

She turned to look at him, little rivulets of water trickling down her face and off the end of her nose. 

Breaking into a wide and meltingly beautiful smile. 

"What?" She said, cocking her head to one side with amusement. 

"You!" Her partner replied, moving closer. 

Around his neck went her arms, their faces within millimetres of each other, her body cool and damp against his own. 

The kiss was deep. Long. She tasted salty. 

He pressed himself against her core, couldn't help it. She could feel him. 

"Mmm!" She hummed. "Is this what seeing me wet in a bikini does to you!" 

"Fuck yeah darlin!" He whispered. 

oOo

Strolling, through the street market. 

Their hands found each other's without either being aware. 

Stopping from time to time, she would let go, move to a stall, speak to its owner, haggle, make a little purchase. While he stood by, watching over her, protector, lover, friend. 

Sometimes she would turn to look at him, to smile, or to say something, their eyes would meet, he would see such devotion, such warmth and affection, his heart would hammer so hard in his chest he thought it must be visible. 

They queued for ices. Waffle cones, pistachio for him, cherry for her.  
Soon his chin was green, as it melted and dripped down his hand and his t shirt. 

"Come here! Mucky pup!" She wetted a tissue with spit and dabbed him, he stood there and allowed her to do it. Then, as a parting gesture she wiped his mouth too, placing a kiss on the end of his nose. 

"There, that's better!" 

And he thought he would burst with love. 

oOo

Even at night the temperature was still warm and balmy. 

He was there first, in the outside bar. Waiting patiently for her to join him.

Perched on a stool with a glass of sangria. Listening to the sound of the waves, the muffled chatter and the cicadas.

The moon was big and round and bright, suspended in a velvet sky. 

A guitarist played softly in the background, strains of the tune wafting across the patio. 

From somewhere behind a sound made him turn, and there she was. 

In a long floral dress. Her hair all pinned up. Sashaying towards him, beaming. 

My God! 

The most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. 

She didn't belong to him, he belonged to her. 

Every last cell of him. Completely and utterly. 

Bewitched. 

Eyes drinking in every movement. So serene and graceful. 

Entrancing. 

When she leaned in to kiss him the scent of her perfume and her hair was so amazing he actually breathed in, to make sure he caught and remembered it. 

"God! You look fucking gorgeous!" He whispered. 

How inadequate did he feel? 

In his linen shirt. Light trousers. Loafers. Fucking hell, like an ageing gigolo. All he needed was a fucking medallion. 

Although to her he was the only man in the room. 

He handed her a glass of fizz, which she sipped after clinking glasses with him. 

"To us!" She said softly. 

Later they danced. 

Close. 

His hand resting on the curve of her back, the other clasped around her's and held against his chest. 

She had eyes only for him. Fuck knows why. It astonished him daily. 

It made him feel lightheaded, strange, tipsy with love, with lust, with adoration. 

Fucking worshipped her, told her so. In a breathy whisper as she nuzzled into his neck. 

"I love you Malcolm. And I'm so happy right now, I think I might cry!" 

Her eyes brimmed and swam, tears balanced but not falling, catching the candle light. Her face aglow. 

He kissed her like a drowning man, a whimper of passion leaching from him. 

"I'm the luckiest man alive." He murmured, before realising the music had ceased, the floor empty but for them. 

oOo

Sam was wearing sunglasses. So he couldn't see the direction of her gaze. 

His attention was focussed on the book he was reading.

Stretched on a sun lounger, in the shade. 

Swimming shorts. 

His skin so white it was almost transparent. The blue of his veins clearly visible. 

_Her_ entire focus was on him. 

The man she loved more than life itself. 

How had this happened? A more unlikely pair it was impossible to imagine. 

And yet here they were. 

This intense and vulnerable man. So deeply damaged, and yet capable of such profound attachment.  
His life a series of brief peaks and devastating troughs, each one more difficult to climb out of. 

She'd lost count of the times she'd had to haul him free, scrabbling and clinging.  
Desperate and afraid. 

Now he had managed to find a modicum of peace. 

Closure. 

A measure of contentment. 

If she was by his side, somehow he would make it. 

As she watched him, he shifted slightly, glancing up, she looked away hurriedly, pretending to be occupied.  
His eyes resumed perusing. Turning the page. 

As he concentrated he curled and uncurled his long toes. Wiggling his feet around from the ankle.  
Subconsciously. 

It amused her greatly. 

His tongue would flick out from time to time, or he would bite his lip.  
Like a small kid when it was crayoning! Trying to stay within the lines. 

She couldn't help a little smile. 

Still whip thin. The weight had dropped off him with all the trauma he'd been through. Hadn't gone back on. 

Every rib visible in his somewhat hollow chest. 

But at least the pallor was gone, he'd gained a little colour on this holiday, and his eyes had lost the dull, lifeless look. Face less pinched, and taut. 

And that pain in his chest, that suffocating feeling, that ball of emotion.....?

She'd sobbed when he told her it was finally gone......so did he. 

Yes.......Malcolm took holidays now. 

When it all got too much, he booked a flight and a hotel, and away they went. 

A week, maybe two. 

It was essential. He needed it.

oOo

Sam Cassidy knew. 

He needed space sometimes. For his thoughts. To detach himself. 

Very early morning. 

Ploughing up and down. 

Front crawl, tumble turn. It had been his saviour when attending therapy. Now it was a routine. 

She woke and turned over, yawning and rubbing her eyes. 

Standing over her, looking down. 

Spiky hair.

Towelled dry. His expression one of a little boy lost. 

"Morning sweetie! You okay? C'mere!" She held out her arms to him. 

His face changed in an instant. Eager. Grateful. Happy. Onto his knees on the bed. 

Crawling into her arms. 

Settling there. 

She held him as if he were a child, cradled. 

Safe. 

A tender kiss on top of his head. 

Fingers in his hair, which was longer now, a little more grey, but softer. Combing soothingly. 

Eyes closed. Breathing deep. Relishing the moment. His voice muffled against her breast. 

"May I make love to you?" 

Those words would stop her heart. He always asked for permission. 

Always. 

"Yes please Malcolm. I want you. I always want you." 

Practiced now. He knew how to press her every button, knew each deft touch to make her moan. 

Coaxing her, slow, sensual. Stroking her soft skin. Knowing she loved his caress. 

This closeness, for him, was life affirming. The knowledge that he was cherished, as never before. 

It fuelled him, sweet sustaining elixir. 

Her's. 

He was her's.

Until his last breath. 

And yet she always told him it was she who belonged to him. But that kind of ownership scared him, only at the moment of entering her did he feel any sense of possession. 

Filling her, moving within her. Loving her like he was right now, every fibre of his being focussed on satisfying her, making her understand just what she meant to him. 

The moment of climax delayed as for long as he could. Sweet surrender. Falling, falling and not wishing to be saved. 

Sometimes the act of ejaculation was so intense he would almost break down. 

And she would comfort him, speak gently to him. Make him feel as if he was the most important thing in her world. 

Which he was. 

oOo

They shared everything now. 

Their lives. Their home. Their love. 

Inextricably linked. 

The commitment so meaningful, especially to Malcolm, who loved so completely, and wanted to give her everything, of himself and all that he was.  
She accepted gratefully, and gave back in return. 

Waking together each morning. Showering or bathing, whilst he shaved.  
Eating breakfast....which Sam insisted upon. A ritual. 

Travelling in to work. Packed lunch. Sensible eating. 

He'd attended therapy for a whole year. Received a huge compensation payout. 

Worked now because it was in his DNA, knowing that at any moment, on any given day, he could just walk away. 

One day he would. But not yet. 

He was better. In himself. Not cured, he would never be 'cured', but better. 

Almost two years since the day he'd gone to her flat that very first time, and his life had changed forever. 

Everyone knew now, that they were an item. Had known for a long time. 

No one cared much. 

They were just Malcolm and Sam. Most thought her mad. She cared not one jot. They didn't know him, they only saw a tiny part of what he was. 

The angry man who bollocked and eviscerated, that wasn't the man she lived with.  
Sure he got pissed off from time to time, he might occasionally rant and swear, but not at Sam. 

Of course they had differences sometimes, and he would be annoyed, but she was always calm and serene in the face of it, seldom did she allow herself to become worked up.  
Standing quietly, hands on hips, as he paced. 

"Malcolm, calm down. You'll have a stroke one of these days!" 

He'd turn to her, vein in his temple throbbing, see her anxious face, and melt before it.  
Christ! Sometimes he just wanted a fucking cuddle. Simple as that. 

Neither knew what the future held for them. They'd discussed it at great length. Malcolm's mind refused to look too far ahead. So they lived for the now, made every day count. 

They decided they had no control over what was to come. Tried their best not to think about it. 

Enjoy the moment. Put the past behind you. Don't worry about next year. 

That was the mantra. 

oOo

Heat haze shimmered. 

Glassy, like ripples on a pond. 

They wandered. Through a field of tall sunflowers.

A hat pushed low on his head. Sunglasses. 

Lots of factor 'bandage', so that he didn't burn. Clutching a bottle of water. 

The path meandered through to the trees, skirting along the edge of a vineyard. 

Insects buzzed. Swallows swooped over their heads.

Sam allowed her fingers to trail through the long grass, walking ahead of him slightly, a wide brimmed straw hat, floaty top and shorts, Converse. 

She looked like a fucking film star. 

At lunch they'd shared some wine. 

Now he felt pleasantly mellow, not wasted, but languid and hazy. A bit like the day. 

On her shoulder in a canvas bag she had French bread, cheese, apples. A blanket. 

Finding a shady spot beneath the canopy of overhanging trees, where it was deliciously cool, she spread it out. 

Malcolm lay on his back, his long fingers clasped together over his stomach. Legs outstretched and crossed at the ankle. 

A deep sigh of contentment. 

He drifted, dozing. His mind wandering away into a dreamlike state. 

There was a tickle on his face, which he brushed away with the back of his hand, wrinkling his nose.  
Then another. He opened his eyes to see her propped beside him on one elbow, a frond of couch grass in her hand. Trailing it lazily across his cheek. Trying to hold back her laughter. 

In one fluid movement he snatched at her, flipping her onto her back, his weight over her, a shriek and a giggle. 

"I have ye now!" He growled. 

Her laughter faded, her eyes scanning his dear face. 

"Kiss me Malcolm." She whispered. 

And God help him he did. 

Mouth plundering hers, arms threading beneath her to pull her close. 

Teeth and tongues and gasps for breath. 

They lay together afterwards. Wrecked. Dishevelled. Flushed and sweaty. Asleep in the dappled afternoon sun. Post coital siesta. 

It just didn't get fucking better than this. 

oOo

Driving up into the hills. 

A crap hire car. With spongy brakes. 

Fucking steering wheel on the wrong side. 

Christ! Why did Johnny Foreigner have to drive on the right? 

Now they were lost. It was Sam's fault. Because she had told him to turn off a while back and he'd ignored her. 

Even though she had the map, and was more than capable of reading it. 

Malcolm was moaning. Gesticulating. Swearing. 

Sam knew it was best to keep silent. 

Commenting only antagonised him. 

"You're fucking winding me up!" He spat. 

She did no more than raise an eyebrow. 

"By remaining silent........?!" A pause. 

"........there's a turning up here......." she added quietly, ".........take it......it goes to the village we're heading for, joins the road you should have taken earlier." 

A steely glare.

Sam stuck her tongue out. 

"Fuck you!" She shot.

Rest of the journey in silence. Malcolm sulking. Childish petulance. 

Trying her best to disguise her smile, she could never stay mad at him for long, and knew he hated it when she was angry with him.

Enjoyed making up with her though! 

Post row sex was always very intense with him. Especially tender, often desperate, and frequently ended in tears.....usually Malcolm's.

Because once he calmed down from his explosions, he was just so sorry. Petrified he'd hurt her, made her unhappy, said things he didn't mean in the heat of the moment, and he needed to let her know......how contrite he was, how much he loved her, would always love her. 

Affirmation. 

Sam knew. 

oOo

The village, when they reached it, was worth the agony.

Rustic. Impossibly ancient. 

Narrow streets, cobbled.  
Small houses with shuttered windows. Stacked on top of each other like Lego bricks. Some with a metal railing forming a small balcony. Climbing up the slope, flowers hung down the stone walls to one side, garish bougainvillea, hibiscus with orange trumpets and bright stamens.  
Each doorstep festooned with pot plants, and perhaps an old chair outside where an elderly woman sat, dressed all in black, her skin tanned like leather, each line and contour a life lived.  
The rooves were a higgledy piggledy mish mash of terracotta tiles, moss covered, with a curve to them, to channel the rainwater. 

Sam took photographs, beautiful photographs. She had an eye for composition.  
Malcolm hated having his photo taken, and if asked to pose, always stood awkwardly with one knee bent, and had a fixed look on his face, as if someone were pushing a spike up his arse. 

So the snaps with Malcolm in them were taken when he was unaware. 

Candid shots. 

They were beautiful. Because he was beautiful. Well at least Sam thought so. 

Gazing into the distance. Snap! 

Shielding his eyes from the sun. Again! 

Smiling and bending to stroke the ears of a rather scruffy thin moggy who came forwards to greet him with a plaintive mew. Another! 

This Malcolm. 

Her Malcolm. 

There was a small square with a cafe, chairs and tables set up on the pavement. 

The church at its beating heart. 

Squat and sturdy. 

A tower like a fat finger, with an iron bell visible through an aperture near the top. Made of the local stone. Whitewashed to a dazzling brightness. 

The cross at the apex of the roof, staring down onto the little town benignly. 

Clouds had rolled in as they drove up, thickening as they climbed higher. 

A sudden cloudburst hit, like a bucket being emptied over their heads.  
Taking her hand, they ran. Laughing. 

The latch on the wooden door creaked as Malcolm opened it and they plunged inside.  
Dripping, gasping, brushing themselves off, their hair and shoulders damp.

Eyes adjusting slowly to the gloom. 

Silence. Serenity. Reverence.  
Muted light pouring through a stained glass window at the back.  
Musty and impossibly old. 

Wooden benches in rows. Pillar candles blinked and flickered. 

Carved and painted effigy of the crucified Christ in agony on the cross, above the altar. Probably medieval.  
A triptych on the wall behind. 

His fingers felt for and closed around hers, mechanically. Sam could see his eyes scanning, darting up to the vaulted roof, along the walls with their plaques and memorials to the long dead. 

"Malcolm." 

Her voice was taken up into the void, echoing and magnified. 

As the smell of incense hit him, his jaw tightened. She saw him gag. 

"Malcolm, sweetie. Lets go." 

Steeling himself he swallowed it down. 

An almost imperceptible shake of the head to the negative. 

Tightening his grip on her hand, she followed him reluctantly down the nave, to where a rack of iron stood. With several tea light candles burning. A tin box for votive offerings. 

Dragging his feet. His face so set and immobile, he looked as if he were wearing a mask. 

Beads of sweat mingling with raindrops. 

Reaching the stand, he rummaged in the pocket of his shorts for some coins, they clanged noisily as they hit the base of the metal offertory.

His hand shook as he took a candle, lit it, placed it carefully in the holder, then sank to his knees. Taking Sam down with him.  
Not for one moment did she look away from him. Hardly daring to breathe, watching his inner conflict playing out right before her. 

So fucking brave. He was her hero. 

Releasing her hand as he knelt down he clasped them together now, at his chest. The knuckles white.  
Head bowed, eyes tightly shut. Lips moving in a silent prayer.  
Tears were squeezed out as his lids closed, but he took no notice. 

It was several moments before they opened again, he genuflected, rose stiffly, and walked away, his stride gradually quickening until he was almost at a run.  
Spilling out into the brilliant sunshine again, sucking in air as if he'd been close to suffocation. 

His eyes unable to open against the blazing light.  
The rain shower had passed, the clouds parted and shafts of golden glory beamed down. Illuminating both him and the square immediately around him. 

Sam gasped. 

Lit up. Deified. 

Standing, back towards her, his head lifted upwards. Arms out at his sides, palms up, breathing fast, as the fan of rays hit him and surrounded him. Like an angel. 

Grabbing her camera she fired off just one picture, before the magic faded, and the scene vanished. 

Coming to his side, she placed her arms around his middle, her head pressed against his chest. 

No words. 

He was trembling. 

Sam knew. 

oOo

The cappuccino wasn't so much a cup, as a bucket. 

Mind you, 40% of it was froth. 

It came with a stout little tumbler of water and an almondy biscuit, which, when dunked, melted in the mouth. 

The cafe was right on the street. Chequered table cloths. Wicker backed chairs. 

Many locals were sitting there. 

Two elderly men playing chess. Another smoking a Turkish cigarette. Brown, without a filter. 

Malcolm took a long slurp, sat back with a sigh. He had froth on his top lip, but his tongue darted out and licked it away before Sam could point it out to him. 

He crossed his legs, seated slightly sideways. Scrolling idly on his phone, huffing a couple of times, before clicking it off and pocketing it. 

"Anything?" She enquired. 

"Who fucking cares! Bigots and hypocrites! Who needs them? I'm sick of self righteous cunts with their heads up their own arses who think they are somehow better than me. Holier than fucking thou!" Another swig of coffee. 

Sam didn't think a response was required. She looked at his legs instead. 

There was actually a line where his shorts ended and his thighs began. 

It didn't quite constitute a tan, but hey! He neither was, nor ever wished to be, a bronzed buff beach boy! 

But a little colour was better than custard cancer! 

oOo

_"Night swimming._

_Deserves a quiet night._

_I'm not sure all these people understand.......it's not like years ago,_

_The fear of getting caught, the recklessness of water........"_

 

Malcolm and Sam sat on the edge of the pool. 1 am.

With a bottle and two glasses. 

Their legs dangling in the water.

Shoulders touching. Her head against his. 

Pitch black.

As the stars wheeled overhead. 

The only light from a lantern. 

Cool water. Wriggling toes. 

Warmth of the wine, numbing any remaining tension, whilst heightening everything else. 

Over their heads The Milky Way, they tried to point out the constellations. Cygnus. Cassiopeia. The Great Bear. It was darker here than it ever was at home.  
No light pollution, no orange glow blotting out the natural wonders.  
A trillion pin pricks of light.

Talking. Sharing thoughts.  
Far into the night. 

Swishing their feet together.

Sam, looking at Malcolm, holding his gaze, as she unfastened and peeled off her dress.

Nothing on underneath.

He licked his lips.

The curves of her beautiful body. 

She slid down into the water. Like a mermaid. 

Breaststroke.

Hardly a ripple.

The dim light catching the swell of her breasts as she swam. 

"Come in with me, Malcolm. It's beautiful." She beckoned, a crooked finger. Seductive. 

Hesitant. 

Almost coy. 

"Just do it!" 

And he would......because, fuck, he'd walk through fire for her......

T shirt off, over his head. Shimmying out of his shorts and pants. 

Lowering himself down into the depths. A shiver, as the cold hit his midriff. 

All in the silent dark. 

No moon.

Just the starlight. 

A tremble of excitement. 

Reaching her side.

Heads together.

Lips touching..........soft, sweet, deep, turning in the water, locked in a tender embrace.....

"Fucking love you......"

"Fucking love you too......" 

_"Night swimming.....you, I thought I knew you_

_You I cannot judge......_

_You I thought you knew me,_

_This one laughing quietly, underneath my breath........night swimming....."_

 

Fin.


	2. Home Again.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm and Sam are home from holiday.......things get back to normal......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This second part of the story, which follows on from Holibobs, again, isn't really a story as such.
> 
> No beginning, no ending. But slowly developing and coming together.
> 
> Again it is just some random scenes, strung together. Not on any particular day, not on the same day or the same week.  
> Just little vignettes of their lives together.
> 
> Living together, and what that's like. A domestic situation, and exploring their relationship.
> 
> Again you don't have to read Shitstorm to get the gist of this story, but there are certain references to that story.
> 
> The part with Nicola and the train, is obviously taken from the Jeremy Corbyn news item last week, and is really purely there as an example of the sort of thing Malcolm would be called upon to deal with. In fact an interview with Corbyn's Director of Communications was on the National News when the story broke. It is just there to illustrate the kind of stuff that happens that you just couldn't make up!! A real life political shitstorm!
> 
> The pet part is an idea sent to me by @mywhaticallablog on tumblr ages ago. It was actually meant for the 'married Malc with kids au' which I started writing but then abandoned, so I filed it into my brain to use when a better idea came. Then I thought it fitted in better with this, so I've written it as one of the little scenes.
> 
> So I thank her sincerely for that!!
> 
> Oh, and in case you're wondering.....there is NOTHING that cannot be cured, in Britain, by having a nice cup of tea.......!!!!

HOME AGAIN.

Malcolm was whistling.

He was also cooking.

Wok sizzling. Stirring and chopping.

Arms threaded around his middle from behind, making him jump.

'What yer makin'?" Her whisper made him shiver.

"Beef in black bean sauce."

"Smells great! So do you!"

She could be such a minx at times. Really fucking got him going. She knew it of course.  
Womanly wiles he called it. Messed with his fucking head.  
How feeling her behind him like that, her arms pulling him close, her hushed voice, could make his cock twitch.

"Not now Sam! I'm creating!"

She released her grip, trailed her fingers down his arm slowly as she pulled away.

Too fucking late......he was lost!

oOo

Balanced precariously on a step ladder.

With a roller on a long handle.

Painting the ceiling. He at the far end of the room, she at the other.

The pair of them looked like a couple of pieces of spatter art.

Malcolm's face and hair peppered, tiny flecks of white emulsion.

Sam, her hair pinned up in a clip, denim overalls, two sizes too big, one of his old t shirts......fucking hell, but she looked so sexy!

A smear of wallpaper paste on one cheek. Pale grey paint in her hair, making her look as if she were part of a 'before' and 'after' advert for Grecian 2000......and she was the 'before'!

"My fucking neck aches!" He groaned.

"Well, take a break then! Go make us a nice cuppa!" She was smoothing the paper expertly with a long brush.

Stepping back to admire her handiwork.

"What do you think?"

He turned, coming down the ladder and hitting the pasting table.

"Ow! Fuck!" He grimaced, holding his hip. "Looks fucking amazing, not a bubble or a ripple, fuck knows how you do it!"

"It's not too bad once you've got the first bit up." She looked at him, and began to laugh.

"Oh! Malcolm! You're smothered! Look at you!"

Running a hand over his hair, she pushed it flat, but when she let go it sprung up again.

"It'll wash out. It's only emulsion. This has been fun, never done any decorating before in my life!"

She dropped a kiss on his spotted cheek.

"Thanks for doing this."

He beamed with pleasure.

It had been his idea, to decorate the back room, which was seldom used, only a glory hole, full of junk.  
So that Sam could have a room in his house that was just for her.

Her computer, a work station. Her sewing machine, books, photography stuff. A little oasis.  
A place of calm and tranquility where she could work, or just disappear if she wanted to.

They'd done it together.

She'd chosen the wall colour, a soothing grey, the end wall papered in a classy Farrow and Ball wallpaper.

His next challenge would be to build the shelving he'd bought.

Sam anticipated needing to be at her very calmest and most placatory!!

oOo

Apoplectic.

Pacing.

Moving to the window, peering out through the blind, cursing and ducking away again.

"Fucking cunts!"

"Malcolm come away from the window! For goodness sake. Eventually they'll get bored and go away."

"Fucking zoom lens shoved through my privet!"

"Sounds painful!" Sam tried to disguise a chuckle.

"I'm glad you think it's funny!" He turned on her, enraged.

"They want a story, Malc. They want to know why the Leader of the Opposition is filming herself sitting on the floor in a train, saying this was the only place she could find, when there were clearly seats available. They think she's a bloody liar and a hypocrite. And using it to push her 'let's renationalise the railways' campaign."

"Why don't they fucking well make camp outside her fucking house then? Why don't they fuck off to Hampstead and stick their sodding cameras through her fucking hedge?"

"Because you are the Director of Communications, the spin doctor.....and they want doctored spin! From you."

Malcolm hurled his book onto the table, almost toppling a vase of flowers there.

"I gave them a statement! For fucks sake. But now that cunt Branson has released CCTV footage of Nicola fucking Murray walking through the the carriage, passed empty seats. She said they had coats on them! God Almighty! She's Leader of the Opposition for the love of fuck.....has she not got the bollocks to ask someone to remove their coat? If not, how is she gonna have the strength to potentially run the fucking country!"

"I'll go and put the kettle on. Malcolm sit down and ignore them. They'll be gone once the pubs open!"

"I can't even leave my fucking house!"

"You don't want to leave your fucking house though....."

"Shut up! If I DID want to......I can't.......cunts!"

Sam sighed, gave an eye roll, and went into the kitchen.

oOo

The covers were pushed back on the bed, Malcolm, resplendent in boxers was stretched out on the bottom sheet, propped on pillows against the headboard.

He was meant to be on his iPad. But he was distracted.

Watching Sam.

She was seated beside him, legs up, and folded.....fuck knows how......painting her toenails.

He was fascinated.

Marvelling at how supple she was for a start!

"Why the fuck do women do these things?" He mused.

"What.....paint their toe nails! What's wrong with that?" She paused, the polish brush stuck back into the pot, as she lifted her foot and blew on the completed toes.

"Nothing's wrong with it.....it's just.....why do you have to have coloured toenails......you don't see them unless you're wearing sandals? And how the fuck can you reach your foot close to your mouth?"

"They look pretty. I like them painted! Watch it or I'll wait till you're asleep and varnish yours! 'Ruby Roo!' And.....hell......you like it that I'm bendy!!"

She sat back, resting beside him. Job done.

There followed a few moments of companionable silence.

"You have the weirdest feet I've ever seen." She commented eventually.

Malcolm lifted a foot casually. Waving it in the air.

"Fuck off....I've got nice feet."

"No you haven't! They're weird. Your second toe is longer than your big toe.....and your third toe on your right foot is kinda bent.....like a zig zag! And they are massive, your feet! When you splay your toes out they look like Monster Munch!"

She started a fit of giggles at her own apt description.

"Well, that's fucking lucky for you....girlie.....cos you know what they say about men with big feet?" Malcolm responded proudly......clutching his bollocks with one hand.

"Yeah......big feet......big socks.......!" Sam sniggered again.

"You fucking love it Darlin', don't knock the merchandise!" He grabbed her and made to pull her down.

"Malcolm! Don't you dare! You'll smudge them before they're dry!" She squeaked.

"Fucking hell! Women!" He moaned.

oOo

He'd been away a couple of days.

Hated going away. Loathed being separated from her. It never went well.

Right from the very start he'd found that when she was beside him he slept well, when she was absent or he was off on a conference somewhere, he didn't sleep well at all.

Sam wasn't keen on being 'home alone' either. It had taken a while for her to see Malcolm's house as her own home.  
It was his house, and she just lived there.

Not anymore.

Now it was 'their' house. Her's and his.

Contrary to her original plan, she had sold her flat. Renting it out was more trouble than it was worth.  
Tenants a nightmare.  
Malcolm was profoundly moved when she said she'd put it on the market.

It made their arrangement all the more permanent in his eyes.  
She wasn't going anywhere. In for the long haul. True commitment.

He was deliriously happy.

Home.

Coat off, keys hurled onto the hall stand.

Suitcase dumped by the stairs.

What a relief!

"Hi sweetie.....how'd it go?"

She came forward to welcome him, arms outstretched.

There was a delicious smell of dinner emanating from the kitchen.

So pleased to see her.

He'd been to Birmingham for a meeting of the National Security Council, in his role as Director of Communications, accompanying Nicola Murray. Although really, since the party lost the election, his job technically didn't exist. He was taken on as Election Strategist, but since their defeat he was more or less doing what he had previously been employed to do by Number Ten.

Moving into her embrace he let out a grateful sigh.

Tender kisses.

"Meeting went well. Been awake most of the nights though. Fucking hate hotel rooms!"

Later, sinking into bed, he curled himself against her. How could anyone smell and feel that good?

Fuck, but he was so tired.

Just wanted to be held, to close his eyes, to sink into blissful slumber.

"Missed you so fucking much, Sam."

"I missed you too, my darling, it's quiet here when I'm on my own."

He was quickly asleep. She could tell he was exhausted.

Waking to a sound sometime later, she sat up. Glanced at the clock. It was three am.

Malcolm was lying beside her, on his back, he was dreaming, tossing about, and it had woken her.  
Making little mewing sounds in his sleep.  
Clearly distressed.

Nightmares had faded slowly since they'd been together, and were less frequent now, since attending regular therapy sessions. But every so often something triggered him.

It might be a stressful week at work, being ill or overtired, or, as in this case, having been away from home and unsettled.  
That was enough.

"Malcolm, sweetie. It's okay, I'm here. Hush now." She stroked him gently, not wishing to wake him with a start.  
His eyes popped open with a little gasp.

"SAM!"

"It's alright, honey, you were dreaming, it's okay.....it's over now. I'm here."

Passing a hand over his forehead he whispered, "Fuck!"  
Snuggling himself into her body, trying to find comfort.

"Do you want a cup of tea? Or some water?" Her hand caressed him gently.

"No! Don't go. I need you." Pushing himself closer.

"Malcolm, I won't leave you. I'm holding you, okay? I'll stay right here. Try to go back to sleep."

He breathed rapidly, sucking in air.

"Fuck Sam! Scared. You've got me, yeah?"

"Close your eyes Malcolm. Listen to me. Breathing.....in.......out.......come on, slow it down.  
Count of five.....like I taught you.  
One.......two..........easy now.....three.....from the chest......four.........five."

Her voice was soft and calming. She could always soothe him, bring him down, drag him back from the abyss.

The combined sensation of her fingers on his skin and her gentle tone. Lulling him.

"Let yourself drift Malc.......feel like you're sinking, down and down.......warm and safe and comfortable."

She laid a hand flat on his sternum.

"Concentrate on my hand, making it lift and sink. Rise......and fall. Rise.........and fall. Focus on that, and my voice."

After some ten minutes she could hear the gradual deepening of his inhale, the puff on the exhale that told her he'd drifted off.  
He shifted, tucking himself against her.  
She continued to rub his back for some while afterwards. Trailing her fingers up and down, and humming softly.  
Finally kissing the top of his head, and sliding herself down the bed so as not to disturb him.

"Goodnight Malcolm. Sleep tight." She murmured.

oOo

Sam was in tears.

Sobbing.

Malcolm felt like shit.

"Fuck......Sam......I'm sorry......I'm such a cunt. Please forgive me."

It was a stupid argument, over nothing at all really.

But then he'd blurted out a load of crap, pulled the age card. Made her feel small and insignificant, inadequate and like a scolded child. Brow beaten her.

He made to put an arm around her, kiss her, and she shrugged him off.

"Leave me alone Malcolm. Not everything can be resolved with sex. It's your answer to everything. Well, not this time. What you said was horrible. Just go away. I want to be by myself."

Malcolm slunk off like a whipped dog. Tail between his legs.

He'd been spurned, and he wasn't sure if that didn't make him feel worse than the argument itself.

Mind working overtime. Jaw tense.

Silence maintained. She had floored him. He.....Malcolm Tucker......didn't know what to say.  
How to put things right.

Why the fuck didn't he stop and think before the shit fell out of his mouth?

Reaching for shoes and coat, keys from his pocket. He left the house, slamming the door.

Sam remained where she was for some time. Sitting in her little room. She'd cried herself out, and now had a splitting headache.

God! It was like being in a nursery sometimes! Taking care of a naughty errant child. A fucking three year old.  
The vision of him ranting off, swam before her.  
He was never going to change.....hell, she didn't want him to. She loved him just as he was.  
Warts and all.

She loved him.

Jesus! So fucking much. He was her whole life. Couldn't live without him. Bloody stupid arse!

Hugging her knees, she rocked in her chair. Thinking of all the times. Good and bad, since she'd moved in with him.  
He needed her like air to breathe. She knew that.  
The feeling was mutual.

His contrition was evident as soon as the words left his lips, she knew that too. He didn't mean any of it. Not really. It was just his way of lashing out when he was cornered, or afraid.

The doorbell rang.

An eye roll. He'd stormed off in a huff, forgotten his keys. Twat!

Opening the door.

"Forgot your keys did you? Prat.........."

It wasn't Malcolm.

It was a black and yellow van. A guy in an Interflora uniform. Peeking out from behind the biggest bouquet of flowers she'd ever seen.

"Miss Cassidy?"

"Yeah!"

"These are for you." He handed them over.

A card inside. Her fingers trembled as she opened it.

_"Sam. I'm so sorry. I'm a cunt. M xxxx"_

Sam sobbed all over again.

Over an hour before he returned. God knows where he'd been. Sitting in the car probably. His face was all red, and his eyes were swollen.

When he entered the hallway she rushed to him. Arms round his neck.

He lost it completely then, weeping.

"I thought I'd come home to find you gone. I was so frightened I didn't want to come back. Fuck! Sam! Please forgive me for fucks sake. I can't say sorry to you enough times. Please!"

"Malcolm. Hush. Surely you don't think I'm going to pack my bags and leave because we've had an argument? I forgive you.....okay? Let's forget about it, and move on. What is it they say? The course of true love never runs smooth?"

"Fuck! Fuck! Thank you.....Sam.....I love you so fucking much! I'm an idiot, and I'm sorry......so very sorry."

"Come upstairs and I'll show you that you're forgiven......alright? Malcolm?"

She sought his gaze, and the eyes that looked back slayed her.

Devotion. Utter devotion. Grateful. Humble. Miserable. Thankful. All in one.

"I Love you.....idiot!"

oOo

Arriving home from Tesco's, all was quiet, Malcolm nowhere to be seen.

She dumped the groceries on the kitchen counter.

"Malc? You there?"

"Up here!" A muffled reply.

In the bedroom, on his hands and knees, head in his wardrobe.

Sam stood regarding him, hands on hips.

"What on earth.....?"

He was surrounded by a pile of old boxer shorts.

"Having a clear out! Is there a clothes bank nearby?"

Sam burst out laughing.

"A clothes bank?" Her sides began to ache. "You don't take your old pants to a clothes bank....you throw them away Malcolm."

"Why? They're clean! I thought they recycled them......."

"Seriously? Recycled old underwear? I don't think so! Hang on.........let me think........"Gosh that's a nice top you're wearing Mr Homeless Man.......yes......it's made out of Malcolm Tucker's old pants......stylish don't you think?""

Fits of giggles overtook her.

"You really are priceless Malc........just get a black bin bag......chuck them out. No one is going to want to either wear them, or make something new out of them......you can only go so far with recycling. They will not be queueing to own a pair of keks that have cradled your balls. Trust me!"

Malcolm exploded into laughter himself, he laughed so hard he made a squeaking noise and that made Sam laugh all the more!!

Christ! Some days were just fucking perfect!

oOo

Battersea. At the Animal Rescue Centre.

Wandering the cages.

Jesus! It was fucking heartbreaking.

A cacophony of barking and whining, scrabbling and mewing.

Sam was in raptures one moment, tears the next.

"Poor pathetic fuckers!" Malcolm observed. His face set hard in the face of such pitiful sights.

Abused, neglected, abandoned, or just plain unwanted. For whatever reason. Their eyes watching you walk by, pleading.......please pick me!

Malcolm Tucker had to be extremely stern. Put his foot down with a firm hand.

Otherwise they'd have left with at least four dogs, and half a dozen cats. Because Sam couldn't bear it.  
When a cold wet nose nuzzled her fingers, or a soft purr was elicited from the stroke of her hand.

Malcolm was still not quite sure how he'd allowed himself to be talked into this.

What a sap!

He just wasn't a pet person.

Yet here he was, inside the fucking enclosure, on his knees, as the rather tatty looking moggy rubbed round his legs.

"This is the one." He announced.

A tabby.

Large tomcat. A couple of years old. It looked as if it had been attacked with a Strimmer. Moth eaten.  
But a fine handsome face. An M on its brow.  
Neutered, injections up to date. House trained to a litter tray.

It's mew was more a kind of strangled crying. It's purr like a freight train.

Malcolm was done for.

Smitten.

"We'll call him Ramsey.......after McDonald. A hero of mine!" Malcolm suggested.

Sam smiled to herself. This was going to be interesting.

The first thing it did on reaching their home and the carry cage being opened, was to run straight up the living room curtain.

Hanging there. Suspended by its claws.

Petrified.

Back arched, tail stiff. Fur puffed out.

The first couple of days were a nightmare.

Fucking thing!

It shat under the kitchen table. It wouldn't eat. Refused everything offered it. Wouldn't go near either of them, and tried to bite or scratch them if they tried to go within a foot of it.

It howled incessantly, until Malcolm was convinced he was actually going to go completely barmy.

"Why the fuck did I let you talk me into this......we could have had a kid......it would have been less fucking trouble!" He groaned, as he found another turd.....this time, just underneath the telly.

But by the end of the week, things calmed down.

After a fortnight, it had imprinted itself........on Malcolm.

Wherever he was.....it was.

Lying on the couch, Ramsey would be draped across his lap, head on his shoulder.  
Sitting at his desk, the cat would be curled beside him, one paw on the keyboard.

It took up residence in the middle of their bed.....wedged between himself and Sam......until Malcolm decided enough was enough on that score, and it was summarily booted out.  
Much to its disgust.

The creature sat outside on the landing, mewing plaintively. Until Malcolm....who flatly refused to be dictated to, took him downstairs to his cat basket in the kitchen, and shut the door.

If Malcolm walked into the lounge, Ramsey would follow, rubbing round his ankles, purring like thunder.  
In fact if Malcolm was home, the daft mog never so much as looked at Sam, she was only tolerated when he wasn't there. It followed him everywhere. His shadow.

Soon the cat lost its threadbare matted look, it put on a little weight, became sleek and glossy, a picture of health and vitality.

Once it caught a mouse.....Christ knows where from, but bought it home to its beloved new owner as a present. Still very much alive.  
It disappeared behind the fridge.  
Since Sam was not particularly good with small furry rodents, it was down to Malcolm to catch the bloody thing and hoik it out into the garden.

Stupid bloody animal!

oOo

Sam had been to the hairdressers.

She arrived home in a flurry and a rush.

"For fucks sake!" She didn't usually swear, Malcolm did enough of that for both of them.

He came through into the hallway.

"Where the fuck have you been......we've only got an hour......."

She handed him his evening suit, which she'd collected from the dry cleaners.

"There's a bloody accident on the High Street. The road is blocked off......."

A scarf covered her hair. So Malcolm couldn't see what it looked like.

"Oh well, you're here now.....lets get ready! D'you want a cuppa? Calm you down?" He made his way towards the kitchen.

"You're an angel......yeah. I'll go jump in the shower."

They were off to a posh dinner, at the Savoy.

While Sam was in the bathroom, Malcolm unpacked his tuxedo and hunted for his cuff links.

Coming back, with them and his bow tie, he found Ramsey curled up in the middle of his black jacket, one leg in the air, washing his arsehole most meticulously.

"Fucking fuck me!! Bloody cat! Gerroff!!" He launched a rolled sock at the cat, who looked up, unperturbed, then continued his ablutions.

"Now it's covered in cat hairs! That bloody animal!" Malcolm found a lint roller and applied it vigorously.

Glancing at himself in the bedroom mirror, he frowned. A recent haircut, he'd gone shorter again, despite Sam saying she liked his curls. He thought he looked old, and thin, the trousers of this suit a little roomy. He suddenly felt very self conscious.

Why did Sam love him so much? What did she see when she looked at him? Fuck if he knew!

He was just fastening his tie when she appeared.

A vision.

Malcolm gasped in admiration.

"Oh my God! Sam! Fucking hell!" He breathed.

"You like?" She blushed and did a twirl.

She was in a full length chiffon floaty number, midnight blue. A plunge neckline and a diamanté waistband.  
A fine chain dangled down her cleavage. Sparkly earrings. Her hair all piled up and curled at the sides in ringlets which framed her face.

"You look fucking fabulous. Christ! Just stunning, I can't stop looking at you."

"You look very handsome too.....here......let me do your dickie bow for you."

She turned him to face her, her fingers at his neck.

"Feel like a right cunt......next to you.......what will people think?" His eyes cast down almost in shame.

"What do you mean?" She stood back, to admire her handiwork, her hands moving down to his arms holding him gently.

"I look like I'm your fucking Dad or something."

Her face changed.

"Malcolm! Never! You are the most handsome man! Look at you! And you're all mine! I love you. Never say that........not to me."

"Sorry! Feeling a bit gauche and awkward, compared to you." He looked down at his feet.

"Malcolm Tucker, as far as I'm concerned you'll be the only man in the room. And I am proud to walk into anywhere on your arm. Don't you dare ever think otherwise!"

She kissed him thoroughly. Holding him tight.

"Fucking love you!" She whispered as she pulled back.

"Fucking love you too." He chanced a little bashful smile.

"Come on! Let's go......we'll knock 'em dead! You ready?" She took his hand firmly.

"I'm ready!"

 

Fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	3. Recess.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, this third chapter continues in the vein of the last two. 
> 
> Scenes from their lives. 
> 
> (The political references are current to today's Parliament.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have two prompts, one from @petersgal and one from @flydye88 which will both be woven into this sequel at some point. (One is already written) 
> 
> The final chapter is already drafted, and the other chapters will be posted as they are written. Hopefully every few days or so depending on available time.  
> Some will form more of a story, some will be random scenes.  
> Most will explore some aspect of their relationship and their lives together, covering the two years which passed between the end of series three and the beginning of series four.

RECESS. 

Parliament was in summer recess. The House rose in the third week of July, and was not due to return until the beginning of September. 

It was the time most MP's took a holiday, and things were generally quiet.  
The political stage was empty, the lights turned off as the last person vacated the building! 

The world of the House of Commons gradually wound down and became inert. A sleeping dragon. Differences were set aside, political or otherwise, the machinations of Government and Opposition continued, but were muted as far as the media was concerned. 

Malcolm was relieved. 

All seemed quiet on the Leadership front too. Nicola Murray was supporting the 'Child Poverty in the UK Bill', currently due for its second reading when the House returned to sit after the break.  
It was a Private Members bill, put forward by the MP for Hackney and Lewisham.  
It was a good Bill. It's aim to establish a target for reducing child poverty in the United Kingdom.  
As yet it had not been debated in the House, but this was due on the second reading. 

Much popularity had been gained by Murray's vocal support of it, and this had effectively silenced any dissenters for the time being. 

It gave Malcolm the opportunity to draw his breath. At least for a while.

He returned from the office to find the patio door wide open, and the sight of a rather beautiful and perfectly formed derrière greeting him, from the depths of the flowerbed. 

At the back of Malcolm's house was a small courtyard garden. Gravel, with brick edging to narrow borders, filled mainly with shrubs that required little maintenance.  
A small red brick built shed in the bottom left corner, which had once, years ago been a wash house, the street being Victorian, constructed around 1880. 

It now sported a reclaimed cast iron table and armchairs, which Sam had found in a junkyard.  
Full of rust, she spent hours cleaning them with a wire brush and painting with black Hammerite, and they now looked splendid. She made cushions for the chairs on her sewing machine, out of fabric remnants from the market.  
There was also an umbrella stand underneath......the canvas brolly lived in the shed most of the time, but was bought out at this season of the year. 

Sam spent an inordinate amount of time in this little oasis. 

The back fence now had glass lanterns strung along it. Clematis grew and wound its way in amongst the fence panels.  
A rather smart lead water feature in the opposite corner to the old wash house. Which trickled and tinkled prettily and served as a birdbath for the local garden sparrow and blue tit population, much to her delight. 

There was a resident Robin, so tame it would almost eat from her hand. 

Feeders of seed and peanuts hung suspended from brackets on the fence posts. Well out of reach of a certain moggy. 

It was shady on one side, from a Japanese Acer which had beautiful leaves that changed colour in the autumn.  
Ramsey had a favourite snoozing spot under a purple lilac on this same side. 

All around the edges were Sam's pride and joy.  
Pots and containers of all shapes and sizes, full of colourful petunias, geraniums, and fuchsia.  
Roses and nasturtiums in summer, bulbs and wallflowers in Spring. 

Hazel twig tripods grew scarlet flowered runner beans, and cherry tomatoes. 

This was what occupied her now......a tray of marguerites beside her, on her knees.....her backside uppermost.  
Pink gardening gloves, a trowel, empty plastic pots, a bag of compost. 

Malcolm smiled indulgently to himself. Tilting his head to one side to admire the view for several moments. 

Before eventually turning to put the kettle on and make two teas, which he carried out to her on a tray. 

On hearing his step, she straightened up......strands of hair in wisps across her face, a streak of soil down one cheek, her jeans grubby, the bottoms of her feet black, where she wore no shoes.....her bright smile gave him the impression of a young street urchin, or a mudlark. 

"Happy?" He enquired, handing her the mug. 

Sitting back on her heels she accepted the proffered cup and took a grateful swig, smacking her lips. 

"Deliriously!" She replied, blowing her hair upwards with her mouth, so as not to wipe even more earth on her already dirty face. 

Malcolm surveyed the little domain.

It was quite lovely. 

He liked to come and sit out here now. 

Never EVER did that when he lived alone. 

He'd bring his morning coffee out on a fine day, or spend a sunny Sunday afternoon dozing there. Surrounded by the lovely scents, the sound of the water, and the birds singing. 

Calming. Tranquil. Hardly any traffic noise, despite being in London. Perfect. 

And it was all created by the wonderful Sam. 

"Looks great." He commented. 

Ramsey jumped up onto his lap without ceremony, rubbing his head under Malcolm's chin. 

"You think?" She beamed with pleasure. "I just love being out here! I always wanted a little garden!" 

Malcolm placed the cat down onto the ground and stood up.

"Tell you what........I'll go get some grub started, we'll lay the table, light some candles, come and sit out here for supper yeah?" 

"Lovely!" She stood up, dropped a kiss on his brow. "I'll go and jump in the shower!" 

oOo

Lying on a towel on the floor. 

Malcolm groaned and grunted. Winced and fretted. 

The waistband of his boxers folded down, as Sam, kneeling at his side, ministered to the afflicted. 

"What on earth possessed you!" She scolded, carefully massaging the small of his back with the flat of her hands.

The stench of Winter Green pervaded her nostrils, as she rubbed Deep Heat into his aching muscles.

"Ow! FUCK! FUCK! Not so hard!" He grimaced, sucking in air through his teeth as the pain hit......

"Because I dropped my cuff link.....one of the nice ones you bought me.....the ones I like and wear all the time, and it went underneath!" He hissed. 

"But Malcolm.....trying to move that bloody desk......you didn't even take the drawers out! What the hell were you thinking?" 

"Oh! Don't be so fucking patronising! Clearly I didn't think I'd snap my spinal cord! It was a spur of the moment thing. AHHHH! Shit! Fuck, that hurts!" 

His arms were up under his head. Ramsey, who clearly thought this was some new game, was rubbing around him, pushing his face against Malcolm's hair. 

"Get that stupid animal off me! For fucks sake." He moaned, scowling at the over affectionate feline.

"I'm not being patronising Malcolm.....I'm cross with you......you could have called me.....I'd have come and helped you."  
Pushing the cat away, much to it's disgust, she replaced his underpants carefully.  
"There you are, you're done.....let me help you up." 

She gave him a hand and hooked the other under his arm, so he could lever himself using her strength as well as his own. 

"FUCK! FUCK! SHIT! BOLLOCKS!" A string of invective as he heaved himself upright. 

"You're going to have to rest it as much as poss. Sitting will be utter torture, you'll have to stand up and stretch frequently to keep yourself mobile, or you'll stiffen up and you won't be able to move.  
I have a back support downstairs, I'll fetch it. It'll help take the strain off the muscles while they mend." 

"Fuck it all Sam. See what you've manacled yourself to? A sodding old crumbly!" He attempted to straighten himself, both hands on the small of his back, elbows out to the sides. 

"Nonsense! Everyone injures themselves from time to time. You're no different. Age has nothing to do with it......stupidity, however, has everything......" 

He pulled a face, but declined to comment. 

The cat, deciding that Malcolm no longer smelled nice, gave him the cold shoulder, rubbing round Sam's ankles as she now stood in the kitchen. 

From the bathroom above her came a plaintive cry. 

"Saammmm?" 

Rolling her eyes, she left what she was doing and mounted the stairs. 

He was next to the toilet, with the seat down, attempting to put his foot up onto it, one sock in hand. A string of curses echoing round the tiled room. 

"I can't get my fucking socks on! FOR FUCKS SAKE!" He cried, in agony and frustration. 

"Calm, Malcolm......for goodness sake......here, let me help you......lift up....."  
Somehow she was always so serene, so soothing, she bent down, uncomplaining, unfazed, letting him rest a hand on her shoulder to steady himself, pulling his sock over his raised foot gently. 

"This must be one of your deepest fantasies?" She remarked, looking up at him with a grin as he towered above her. "Me, on my knees grovelling at your feet........" 

He cursed again, gave a bitter laugh, then a little cry, when it caused him a twinge.

"Fucking hell Sam.....you could fasten electrodes to my genitals, and it wouldn't turn me on right now!" 

oOo

Weekend.

Malcolm loved weekends. 

Particularly during Recess. 

Turning over he was presented with Sam's glorious naked back. 

It was a source of unending wonderment for him, that she consented to be with him, put up with his moods and foibles, apparently continued to adore him. 

Mental cow! 

Pressing himself against her, he stroked her skin gently, moving his hand over the shoulder blades and down her spine, along the top of her arm, exposed as it was, free of the duvet. 

She began to make little contented humming noises. 

Arching herself backwards against his chest. 

"Mmmmm!" 

Just like a cat, in numerous ways, he mused. Lithe, sleek and graceful, the little sounds of pleasure she was making almost like purring. 

The fact it was the weekend, made no difference to Malcolm's body clock. He was always awake early.  
Sam was content to curl up and continue to doze on, but he couldn't. Instead he would be lying, thinking, then would quickly succumb to boredom.  
Hence they often made love on weekend mornings, because Malcolm's thought processes usually resulted in him becoming hard as a ridge pole.

Which was his current state. 

His stroking turned to kissing. Little pecks on her neck, lifting her hair, the crevice between ear and shoulder, so eminently kissable. 

Sam groaned. "Malcccc.......I'm still sleepy.......it's too eaaarrrlly ......."

"Sorry!" He whispered.......but continued. 

"Back feeling better then....?" She enquired with stifled amusement, wide awake now. 

It had been almost a fortnight.......he hadn't been this long without sex since early on in their relationship, when she'd had an infection.  
Truth was, at first, he'd been in so much pain it was the last thing on his mind.....then, when he began to improve he was terrified of tweaking something. 

This did not make for a happy Malcolm. 

A frustrated, miserable Malcolm, who felt every year of his age, and very inadequate with it! 

Now, she was turning, settling in his arms, her face close to his. 

"Your chin is like sandpaper!" She complained. 

"You love it......." Was his growled response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	4. The Old Curmudgeon.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Malcolm are invited to a wedding......but first there's the Hen do!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter delves into the intricacies of their relationship from the point of view of their age difference. 
> 
> Sam really isn't that bothered......at least not at first. Malcolm much more so......but it's the reactions of those around them that are more affecting. 
> 
> Malcolm has a serious crisis when Sam goes away, it worries him greatly, although his mind is put to rest when she returns. 
> 
> Granny Black's in Glasgow was famous at the time. Long gone now. 
> 
> (As usual I work on the hypothesis that Sam is about 30 and Malcolm 48. Give or take a year. Just to give a benchmark. She could be 32, him 50 (cunt cake episode?) but either way it's the best part of twenty year difference.)

THE OLD CURMUDGEON.

Malcolm Tucker was feeling miserable. 

Sam was going away for a long weekend. 

Ibiza. Friday to Monday. 

A Hen do. With her mates. Mainly young nubile women her own age. 

That's why Malcolm was miserable. 

Because fuck it all, he felt like a fucking dinosaur. A great big brontosaurus. 

Of course he couldn't and wouldn't try to stop her going. 

Of course he wouldn't. 

They were her friends. 

He didn't own her, far from it.  
If anything she owned him.....if 'owned' was the right word, which she would strongly deny, but which he felt was painfully true for him. 'Belonged' would probably be closer. 

She was a free and independent woman, and she could do as she damn well liked. 

But he didn't have to be jolly about it. 

All this business of stag and hen weekends and shit! He just didn't get it.  
Prague.....Budapest.....for the men, Ibiza or other Spanish islands for the women........fucking hell. 

There would be the family Hen, the friend's Hen, the work colleagues Hen.....fucks knows how many Hen's or Stag's you had to have.

His stag night had been an evening at Granny Black's on Candleriggs. A dozen pints, a strip show and waking a few hours later tied to a lamp post in the Merchant district with his keks on his head covered in his own barf.

Those were the fucking days! 

Sam was quite excited. 

Apparently the guest DJ at Pacha this weekend was David Guetta. 

Whoever the fuck he was. 

Also, Faithless would be there. Now them he'd heard of.......but generally the world of 'clubbing' had passed him by........semi naked people with glitter on their cheeks all bouncing up and down manically, high on fuck knows what, or pissed as farts, to strains of _'Weapons of Mass Destruction.'_

Not for him the bump and grind. 

God, he was so old. 

She whats app'd him a lot. Especially in the early hours after she got back to the hotel room. IF she got back. After the big Saturday night they returned at dawn.  
Partying all fucking night. 

But he knew it was to try to make him feel better, and she knew damn well he wouldn't be asleep. 

He didn't sleep, because she wasn't there, and he missed her like bloody hell. 

Instead his bed was shared with a warm furry ball with a purr like a traction engine, who had somehow found a way to prise the bedroom door open.  
Sod it.  
But he was grateful for the company.

Ramsey barely left his side all weekend, no doubt picking up on his melancholy. 

Saw pictures on her Instagram. 

Which was more a torture than a pleasure. 

In a group.....in bikini's.....holding bottles of LP or Grey Goose. 

Giving the two fingered peace sign, or in various poses.....pouting.....arms in the air......cuddling each other......or worse still, with a load of blokes in tow. Tanned and shirtless, tattooed, hair slicked back. Or as part of a massive heaving mob. All screaming and singing at the tops of their voices, under a throb of coloured lights. 

Yes, Malcolm Tucker was feeling really miserable. 

Any one of these young guys could have her.....nothing he could do about it.  
He didn't think she would necessarily, but he had no hold on her whatever, no right to make demands, it wasn't a case of her being unfaithful to him.....because she wasn't his fucking property, she could go with whomever she liked.  
But fuck his pathetic hide, the thought of that made him feel sick, because he loved her so fucking much. 

What the fuck did she see in him anyway? Old enough to be her father.  
Almost twenty years, give or take a year.  
So far removed from the life of these pictures that he failed to see what attracted her. 

Another generation. 

Riddled with self doubt now. 

Feeling very isolated, and very stupid.  
To think this would ever work out in the long term. 

Would it though? Really?  
How long before she realised the life she was missing out on........the life she was having now?

Fun. 

Doing what single thirty-somethings did. 

Realising he didn't have a group of friends his own age. He didn't really have any friends at all. 

Not for many a long year. Only Jamie. 

His past made him into a loner. Didn't really fit in anywhere. 

oOo

 

He watered all her flower pots for her. Felt lost and alone sitting out there in her little garden.....and it was her's, not his. It gave him pleasure, but it was she who tended it and loved it. 

His phone buzzed.  
A text from her......some of the girls had come home on the Sunday, as they had to be back at work on Monday morning, some were staying on till Tuesday. So she was coming back on the flight alone, on the Monday afternoon. 

Jump in the car. 

Drive down to Gatwick. 

Hacking down the M25. 

She wouldn't be expecting him. Fuck, he hoped he was doing the right thing. Meeting her.  
Hopefully she wouldn't think he was desperate, even though he was. 

Standing, hands in his pockets, eagerly scanning the faces as they came through the customs channel. 

She spotted him first, as she came through the barrier, and her face changed. 

Unbridled joy. 

Her pace quickened, she broke into a run. 

Dropped her bag at his feet and threw her arms around his neck. Hanging on to him for dear life. 

"Oh Malcolm! I'm SO glad to see you." She whispered. "I can't believe you came to meet me! God I've missed you so much."

Suddenly he felt okay again, as she clung to him, kissing him, looking into his face, smiling. Touching his cheek, his hair, holding his hand. As if she hadn't seen him for months. 

Malcolm Tucker was happy again. 

oOo

Sam fastened an ivory rose to Malcolm's buttonhole. 

Before straightening his tie slightly and going up on tiptoes to place a little kiss on the end of his nose.

"You look dashing!" She said, with great seriousness. "I love you in this suit." 

It was his dark navy one, Armani. The cut perfect for him. 

Malcolm frowned. 

"Fuck knows what your friends will make of me." 

"I thought you didn't care what people thought?" She responded. 

Turning to look in the mirror, she placed a dusky pink contraption on the side of her head carefully. 

"What the fucks that?" He asked, changing the subject. 

"It's a 'hatinator' !" She turned to show him the full effect. 

"A what-inator?" Doing his best to keep a grin off his face. 

"It's a cross between a hat and a fascinator." She explained, adjusting it slightly. 

"Right!" He laughed. "Well you look fab." 

Her dress was the same colour as the headgear. Just to the knee, pencil skirt, little bolero jacket over the top in a floral design, picking out the colour of the dress.  
Heels. Clutch bag. A rose on her lapel. 

Christ! She looked better than fab, she looked what she was, pure class. 

oOo

Meeting Sam's friends and their respective partners was an ordeal. 

He could see the way they looked at him, askance. See the questioning looks on their faces. 

Being described as her 'boyfriend'.......dickheads......a boy he most certainly was not. 

Whispered comments. 

_"What the fuck is Sam thinking? Going out with that miserable looking old curmudgeon!"_

_"He looks like someone's Dad!"_

_"Isn't he her boss? Maybe she's in it for his money....he must be well off."_

They attracted a great deal of unwanted attention, almost as much as the fucking bride.  
None of them had met Malcolm before, although they'd heard quite a bit about him, one way and another, mainly from articles in the press.......they weren't impressed. 

Seated at the table, surrounded by these strangers, Malcolm would not normally be self conscious.  
Hell, he did this every day of his working life, he could take care of himself, make small talk, be charming......even if it was false. 

Today he felt like a complete cunt. 

Whispered it to Sam. 

She turned to look at him, holding his eye, whilst at the same time feeling for his hand under the table and squeezing it.  
"I love you!" She mouthed the words. 

Others may have seen it......but Sam didn't seem to care one bit. 

Once the pleasantries, the speeches and the wedding breakfast were over, the tables were cleared and the music began. 

Malcolm sighed. 

What was it about wedding music? 

There were the usual staples, _"Hi Ho, Silver Lining", "The Time Warp", "Oops Upside Your Head!"_

For fucks sake! Utter shite. 

_"Twist and Shout"_ got Granny and Auntie Mabel up, and all the little kids did _"The Macarena"_ , then someone slipped over on a wet patch on the floor, hopefully from drink spillage, rather than from Granny! 

Malcolm wasn't drinking, seldom drank much anyway, he'd offered to drive. 

So he sat. 

Watching everyone. 

With an orange juice. 

When _"Love Shack"_ came on Sam was up there, with the bride, amongst all her girlfriends, she was a great dancer, she knew all the words.  
Malcolm suddenly had a lump in his throat.

The bride's father was roughly the same age as him. A couple of years in it. 

The guys there were all tall, slim, handsome, sharp dressers, a bit chavvy some of them, but hey! A couple sported big fat beards, one had his hair in a sort of bun on top of his head, and was wearing braces.....Malcolm thought he looked a prat. 

He was pished, kept feeling up all the women. 

Sam's mate Dawn yelled in her ear. 

"Is he gonna sit there all night with a face like a slapped arse? Your boyfriend?" 

"He doesn't like this stuff.....it's not his scene." She shouted back, annoyed by her friend's abruptness. 

"What is his scene then? Glenn Miller? Mozart perhaps? He looks permanently cross!" 

To say she was hurt by these words was an understatement, but she didn't want to cause a scene at someone else's wedding. 

Leaving the floor, she pushed her way angrily towards where Malcolm sat, the song finished.......now it was Michael Jackson, _"The Way You Make Me Feel"_.

 _"The way you make me feel......you really turn me on......._ " She sang into his ear, placing her arms round his neck, from behind. 

"Don't Sam.....people are staring........" He glanced around, and so did she......he was right.....they were........he was ashamed, ashamed of himself, for being who and what he was, and ashamed for her, because he knew they were thinking she could do so much better, and it cut her to the quick. 

Sam had had a few by now. 

She was livid. 

How dare her so called friends treat the man she loved this way? She'd seen their nudges, heard their cruel gibes, and now this. 

"FUCK THEM!" She said the words as loudly as possible, turning to face the floor, so that her words and the mouthing of them were perfectly clear for all to see. 

"Come on Malc, let's go outside, get some air......it stinks of bullshit in here." She took his hand and dragged him to his feet.

oOo

They sat together on a wooden bench, in the gardens surrounding the marquee. 

It was cool and fresh. 

The thud of DJ Luck and MC Neat droned out. Cries of _"do you really like it, is it, is it wicked?_ " filtering across the lawns. 

God help us, they'd moved on to 'garridge'!!!! 

Sam held on to Malcolm's hand tight. 

"They are cunts." She said, sadly, more in admission to herself than him. "How dare they treat you like that.....and me for that matter? They're meant to be my friends for Christ's sake, I've known some of them for years. It's about respect. I would never dream of judging their choice of partners to their faces! Not for a moment! I'd never say a word, even if I thought it! And bloody hell.......Yvonne's boyfriend is a complete wanker!" 

"Hair in a topknot? Braces? Groper?" Malcolm asked quietly, staring straight ahead. 

"Yeah!" She leaned against his arm, letting her head drop onto his shoulder. 

"Taking up good air other people could be breathing. Twat." He continued thoughtfully. 

"Yeah." A sniffle. "Malcolm, let's go home. I don't wanna be here anymore." 

"No fucking way! If these arseholes can judge like that......not knowing Jackie fucking Chan about me.....or you it would appear.......then fucking let 'em. It just shows what fucktards they are. Come on, let's go back in.....if we're REALLY lucky they'll play something decent......not that they'd know it if they heard it!" 

They didn't. 

Not until they slowed things down at least. 

When Frank Sinatra's _'All The Way'_ came on, Malcolm stood, held out a hand for Sam to take, and lead her onto the floor. 

Holding her very close, their hands clasped together at his chest, they began to move slowly and perfectly in time. 

Everyone was watching them. 

Sam was looking up into Malcolm's face. Eyes only for him. She neither noticed nor cared about those around her. 

_When somebody loves you_  
_It's no good unless he loves you, all the way_  
_Happy to be near you_  
_When you need someone to cheer you, all the way_    
_Taller than the tallest tree is_  
_That's how it's got to feel_  
_Deeper than the deep blue sea is_  
_That's how deep it goes, if its real_    
_When somebody needs you_  
  _It's no good unless he needs you, all the way_  
_Through the good or lean years_  
_And for all the in between years, come what may_    
_Who know where the road will lead us_  
_Only a fool would say_  
_But if you'll let me love you_  
_It's for sure I'm gonna love you, all the way_  
  _All the way......_

The lyrics stabbed her, his head lowered, he was singing them into her ear, Sam had never heard Malcolm sing before, she didn't even know he could, her eyes stung and watered, pressing her cheek as high on his chest as she could reach. He could see how much she was hurting. 

"Don't cry Sam......don't give them the satisfaction......come on love......chin up.......show those fuckers." 

With a supreme effort, she raised her head again. 

Proud and erect. 

She smiled. 

He leaned down and kissed her lips, lingering and determined, as the song ended. 

She knew almost everyone in the room was watching, and she and Malcolm were giving every single one of them the virtual middle finger. 

As they left the floor, he suddenly turned, and swept a theatrical bow, his hand waving in a circle with a courtly flourish. 

Still leading Sam by the hand, he picked up her hat from the table, which she'd discarded some time previously, and placed it firmly on his own head. 

Then, wearing it, and not letting her go, they crossed the entire room towards the exit. Sam began to giggle uncontrollably.  
The sight of him, plus her intake of a few vodka and tonics, combining to allow her to vent her amusement fully. 

"You've heard of the Terminator? Well I'm the fucking hatinator!" He said, dropping his accent to as broad Glaswegian as he could make it. 

Once outside, and still within view of anyone who happened to be looking, he swept her into a dip, kissing her thoroughly, before setting her upright, releasing her, and walking her arm in arm to where they'd parked their car. 

She laughed until her sides ached.


	5. Friends and Family (part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some scenes from Malcolm and Sam and their interactions with their friends in the wake of the wedding debacle. 
> 
> Then travelling up to Scotland and all the painful memories that evokes. 
> 
> Malcolm has a heart to heart with his young nephew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot here in this one. 
> 
> Sam is really shaken by her friend's reaction to her relationship with Malcolm. She starts to doubt herself and her self confidence is shaken. Boy doesn't this happen a lot in life? Others actions affecting our own, and changing how we see ourselves. 
> 
> Malcolm says a lot in this chapter that is profound truth, some that I'd dearly love to say myself, but he's much better at it than me!! And he's right of course. 
> 
> There is also quite a lot in this chapter which refers to chapters in the Shitstorm story. 
> 
> A song illustrates this part of the story.  
> True Faith. By New Order. 
> 
> I feel so extraordinary  
> Something's got a hold on me  
> I get this feeling I'm in motion  
> A sudden sense of liberty  
> I don't care 'cause I'm not there  
> And I don't care if I'm here tomorrow  
> Again and again I've taken too much  
> Of the things that cost you too much  
> I used to think that the day would never come  
> I'd see delight in the shade of the morning sun  
> My morning sun is the drug that brings me near  
> To the childhood I lost, replaced by fear  
> I used to think that the day would never come  
> That my life would depend on the morning sun
> 
> When I was a very small boy  
> Very small boys talked to me  
> Now that we've grown up together  
> They're afraid of what they see  
> That's the price that we all pay  
> And the value of destiny comes to nothing  
> I can't tell you where we're going  
> I guess there was just no way of knowing  
> I used to think that the day would never come  
> I'd see delight in the shade of the morning sun  
> My morning sun is the drug that brings me near  
> To the childhood I lost, replaced by fear  
> I used to think that the day would never come  
> That my life would depend on the morning sun
> 
> I feel so extraordinary  
> Something's got a hold on me  
> I get this feeling I'm in motion  
> A sudden sense of liberty  
> The chances are we've gone too far  
> You took my time and you took my money  
> Now I fear you've left me standing  
> In a world that's so demanding  
> I used to think that the day would never come  
> I'd see delight in the shade of the morning sun  
> My morning sun is the drug that brings me near  
> To the childhood I lost, replaced by fear  
> I used to think that the day would never come  
> That my life would depend on the morning sun.
> 
> The lyrics fit Malcolm's story so well. 
> 
> His conversation with his nephew is a profound one. The way that certain snippets of information can affect a child is far deeper and more affecting than we can ever imagine.

FRIENDS AND FAMILY. (Part one)

Sam's feeling of vulnerability following her friend's wedding, took a while to dissipate. 

It affected her profoundly. 

She felt more sad for Malcolm than she did for herself, to think that someone she cared for so much and who had suffered as he had, could be treated so appallingly.  
Particularly as they didn't know him at all, and didn't seem willing to even give him a chance.

A couple of the guilty ones, including the bride, had contacted her since and apologised. But somehow, although Sam was cordial in response, she doubted things would ever be the same again.  
The wound was deep. Whether it would heal was debatable, and whether she actually wanted such shallow judgemental people in her life was open to question. 

Malcolm himself was fairly philosophical about it all, although it irked him that she was losing friends ostensibly because of their relationship. 

HIS only real friend was Jamie. 

Since his private life revelations and subsequent media frenzy, the two had drawn closer. 

Jamie McDonald had been a source of genuine support during a very traumatic time. Practically the only person he'd allowed near him apart from Sam and his sister, and perhaps Angela Heaney.

He'd been very glad of a friend, someone who'd been there, right from his childhood, and who had a real inkling of what Malcolm might have endured. 

With the abandonment of her own friends, some of whom she now held in utter contempt, Sam too, turned to Jamie, and he became a more frequent visitor to the Tucker/Cassidy house. 

This pleasant summer evening it was for a barbecue.

Sheltered by the brick wall, out of the wind, in the corner furthest away from the table, Malcolm had the coals on and was busy trying to get them to light. 

"Malc, don't squirt that lighter fuel onto the charcoal while they are burning like that.....you'll go up in a sheet of flame!" 

"For fucks sake......it keeps going out........" He was loosing his rag, Sam could tell. "......they'll be here in a minute!" 

"It doesn't matter, we're not in a hurry, it's early yet! Did you put that prosecco in the freezer?" 

"Yeah. It's been in twenty minutes, you can stick it in the fridge now, it'll be chilled enough."

Malcolm huffed in frustration. 

"Just squirt the stuff on, let it soak in for a few minutes, then try again......it'll go, I'm sure of it. Come and help me with the marinade." 

The table in their little courtyard was laid with a cloth and napkins, citronella candles in a tea light holder in the middle.  
Delicious things to eat filled the kitchen work top, Malcolm perused the plates and licked his lips, grabbing a chunk of carrot, dipping it in hummus and stuffing it into his mouth. 

"There's enough fucking food here for an army! There's only four of us!" 

"Well there's stuff for now, and I'll cook more later......they'll be hungry again by evening. It's only 2pm, they'll be here till the early hours probably." 

She slapped Malcolm's fingers. 

"Stop munching! You've spoilt my nice display!" She scolded. 

Malcolm giggled and rearranged the crudités selection to fill in the gaps he'd left. 

"What do you think she'll be like? This bird?" He speculated, thoughtfully. 

"I don't know! She sounded nice on the phone. Jamie seems quite keen......said he couldn't believe she'd consented to go out with him." 

"And more than once!" Malcolm chuckled. 

"I'm sure she'll be lovely....." Sam reasoned. " .......and I'm so happy for Jamie, he deserves someone nice, I hope Laura stays with him......I just hope she likes us........" 

Her look was suddenly clouded with concern, as she revolved around the kitchen like a headless chicken, faffing, because she wanted everything to be perfect, to create a good impression, to show Laura that they were nice people, and worth knowing.

Malcolm stopped her, holding her fast in his arms, turning her to face him. 

"Sam! Stop! You can't do this. You have to be yourself. She'll accept us as we are, or not at all. You can't force her to like you.....us.......please......no pretence.......just be my Sam......the Sam I fell in love with, the Sam she'll love too.....the Sam Jamie loves already. As for me.....well I've ceased to care anymore.....I don't give a shit, she'll either like me or she won't. But I refuse to act differently, we can't be false to ourselves. It's all we have." 

She leaned into him, and gave a sigh. 

"You're right of course. I know you're right. It's just that this wedding business really upset me. I want people to like you.....us.....together......I want them to see what I see......and it's not fair......." 

"Oh my darling! I know you do! I know that you want everything to be roses......but it fucking isn't. There are loads of people out there who think I'm a cunt. But I can't worry about these people, they don't really know me......I'd never go out of the front door if I did. Jamie is like a brother to me, my sister and her family love me.....and most of all, you love me. That makes me a rich man......there are plenty who have no one at all. It's enough for me.......okay? More than enough. Now come on......lets have a quiet glass of fizz and sit in the garden for a bit.......chill out, until they get here.......and what will be will be. C'mere! Give us a cuddle." 

Snuggling against him, he held her firm, then kissed her hair, turned her around firmly, piloting her by the shoulders, out through the door and into her little outdoor space that he now loved so much, because it was created by her.  
He sat her down, handed her a glass, before taking a seat beside her. 

Holding the flute towards her, he proposed a toast. 

"To us! And fuck all the rest of them!" He smiled. 

oOo

Every time Sam and Malcolm travelled up to Scotland by train, Sam was transported back to _that_ day. 

The day that followed his collapse in the clinic. 

He was sitting opposite her now, a table between them, reading The Guardian. 

She sneaked surreptitious glances at him, when she thought his attention was fully occupied. 

How much better did he look now than on that day? Now over a year ago. 

Recently he'd put on a little weight, not enough, but some at least, his colour was better, the pallor gone. Eyes brighter, cheeks losing the hollow, gaunt look he'd had back then. 

Thank god.

On that occasion he'd walked with a stoop, bent under the tremendous weight of the burden he'd been carrying since childhood. Dog tired. Weak and sickly.

His demeanour now was so much improved. Happier and more content. 

They were travelling once again to stay with his sister Nancy, and her husband 'Mac'. 

Mac McDonald was Jamie's brother. 

Since that fateful day they'd been to visit a couple of times. Things between brother and sister were now quite different. Previously awkward and strained, Nancy and Malcolm now rang each other every weekend for a chat.  
He 'face timed' with his niece and nephew. 

They were eagerly looking forward to seeing 'Uncle Malc'........and his cool girlfriend, who seemed to know all the best stuff, and didn't treat them like babies. 

Malcolm yawned, sitting back in his seat. 

"What yer thinking about?" His voice came to her as if from a distance, invading her thoughts.

"Oh, you know......stuff....." She replied noncommittally. 

He folded the newspaper with great care, smoothing it flat with his hands then splayed out his long fingers on the table in front of him. 

His sharp eyes scanning her face thoughtfully. 

"You're thinking about that day, aren't you? You always go quiet when we come up here, you're kinda reflective, not so relaxed.......does it bother you that much, seeing my sister?" 

Keeping her gaze firmly fixed on his lovely hands, she shrugged. 

"Seeing your sister doesn't bother me, it's just the memory of that day......I'll never forget the way I felt, and how you looked, and the moment when you slid down onto the floor. I actually thought you were going to die......right there in front of me. Nothing I could do to prevent it. It's seared into my mind, like a tattoo on my cortex. Coming up here brings it to the fore, then all this stuff with the bloody wedding, my friends being so horrible to you, it's knocked me for six, I'm finding it difficult I guess." 

"Me too." He said quietly, biting the side of his thumb. "But if I can do it, so can you." 

She looked up at him sharply. 

"Oh Malcolm......darling.....I didn't mean.......I mean I know it's SO much harder for you.......I wasn't trying to....." 

His expression was kindly, he clasped both her hands across the table top. 

"Sam......I know......okay! It's tough.......you were on the outside, watching......helpless......." 

"But you were living it!" She interrupted. "Every bloody day!" 

"Yeah. And now, it's better. I'm better. I can get through a day without thinking about it, and when I do I try to file it into a compartment labelled 'dealt with' and get on with my life. It's all I can do.....otherwise I wouldn't be able to carry on. You've helped me with that, supported me.....got me this far.......so.......I'm going to enjoy a weekend with Mac and Nancy, and I'm most certainly not going to worry about people who aren't worth my time. Fuckwits who are so busy pointing out my faults, they don't ever pause to look at their own. There is absolutely fuck all I can do about what other people think of me.......if they want to judge me......fine. I know what I am, and I know the truth. I'm done with defending myself against these cunts. It's self destructive, it's pointless and it uses energy I don't have!" 

Sam was struggling not to cry. Her emotions this morning, on waking, had been all over the place.  
There was nothing she could put a finger on, but she felt melancholy, and worried about the days ahead.  
It made her distant, and Malcolm picked up on it straight away. 

His thumbs were sweeping over the backs of her hands, leaning forwards, eyes searching for hers. 

Earnest. Open. Almost eager. 

"Sam?" He whispered. "Look at me......" 

She raised her lids slowly, tears swimming, threatening to spill over. 

"Fucking love you." 

A burst of half laughter, half sob issued from her, and she met his gaze steadily. 

"Fucking love you too." 

"Come on! Let's not do this! Otherwise the bastards win. And we can't let that happen. I'm gonna go to the dining car, wanna coffee?" 

"Yes please." 

She watched him go, brisk, upright, as he reached the compartment door, he turned to look back and gave her a smile.

Sam thought her heart would burst.

oOo

Nancy McDonald cuddled her brother close and tight. Rocking him from side to side, as he laughed from a mixture of embarrassment at the intensity of her affection, and evident pleasure that she could do this to him, and he actually found it was quite nice. 

"Look at you!" She beamed, pinching his cheeks with her fingers. "I could eat you all up! And you look so well.....I do believe you've even got a bit of colour!" 

"Nancy.....seriously! I'm not seven! Let me go for fucks sake!" But he was smiling, his eyes twinkling, as he hugged her back. 

The summer day they'd left behind in London, had not reached Glasgow, or rather it had, then thought better of it, hung a sharp right and headed off down the Ayrshire coast.  
Grey, and slightly damp! 

Malcolm's greeting from Alexander and Caitlin, his nephew and niece, was every bit as enthusiastic as that of their mother.  
Clinging to his legs, then to Sam in turn. Jumping about with excitement. His nephew seemed particularly demonstrative this time, which didn't go unnoticed by either Malcolm or Sam.

Alexander was like his father, at ten years old, a sensible and thoughtful child. Polite, sensitive, articulate and friendly.  
His younger sister by four years, Caitlin, was very much like her beloved uncle. Outgoing, confident, sometimes noisy, but kind with it. 

They were great kids, and Malcolm plainly adored them. 

oOo

"Uncle Malc?" 

.......Here it came. 

Malcolm knew there was something bothering his young nephew, he knew it because as a youngster he'd been exactly the same, and, unlike some adults, he hadn't forgotten what it felt like.

The feeling of being desperate to talk to someone, but not being able to. To have feelings, fears, worries and questions, that went unexpressed. 

"Hey Alex.....fancy a walk down to the park? I need to stretch my legs!" 

He glanced at Sam, who immediately knew, such was the simpatico between them, she gave a slight nod and a little encouraging smile. 

"I'll come!" Caitlin said, excitedly. 

"But Caitlin! Are you blowing me out?" Sam interrupted quickly. "Only I thought you wanted me to do your hair like a princess for the party later?" 

Caitlin was off to a friend's birthday celebration that afternoon, and Sam had promised.  
The six year old's face brightened. 

"Oh yeah! I forgot! Cool.....thanks Auntie Sam!" 

Malcolm gave his lover a wink, as man and boy left the house...... 

"Uncle Malc?" 

Almost as soon as they hit the street. Striding along, the youngster trotting at his side, holding tight to his hand. 

"What is it mate?" 

"I wanna ask you something.......but........." His small face frowned in frustration and anxiety. 

Malcolm stopped, and turned, looking down at the boy kindly. 

"Alex, whatever it is, I'll hear it.....yeah? Let's get a can of drink and go sit on a bench somewhere!" 

The child brightened visibly. 

"Ok!" 

They sat for a while in companionable silence, sipping from cans of diabetes inducing Irn Bru. 

"So.....come on.......spill.......what's on your mind?" Malcolm asked gently. 

The boy hesitated. 

"Mam said I shouldn't.........." 

"Well, mam isn't here......so........"

Alexander McDonald took a deep breath. 

"Last year.......when you came to stay.........Uncle Malc, please.......were you ill?" 

"Well, yeah, kinda......I'd had a really bad time, and it made me ill. For a while, but I'm better now......why?"

Malcolm could see the boy's mind working, his lip quivering slightly, as he tried to put into words what he'd been feeling, but had been unable to address.

"That day you arrived.......I heard mam and Auntie Sam talking........." The sentence hung in the air. 

His Uncle remained silent, waiting for the big reveal. 

"......I heard Auntie Sam say she thought you were going to die........." 

There it was. 

Oh shit! So, for a whole year this child had taken on board these words. Pondered on them. Tried to make sense of them. Worried about them. Been in fear of imminent loss, and had been unable to say a word about stuff he should never have heard in the first place. 

Malcolm got down from the bench, kneeling in front of his young nephew, who was finding it difficult to look him in the eye. His gaze cast down at his lap, stinging tears forming there.  
Holding onto him at the tops of his arms, just below the shoulder, he spoke. 

"Alex! Look at me!" 

The eyes rose slowly, until they reached the man's face, the tears trickled down the young cheek, and he sniffed loudly. 

"What you heard.......it was Auntie Sam telling mam what happened to me. I collapsed. I was ill. She thought I was going to die, because I looked so poorly. She thought I'd had a heart attack.....but I hadn't. I had loads of tests in hospital, and the doc's said I was fine. You know what a heart attack is.....yeah?" 

The boy nodded dumbly. 

"I just collapsed because of everything that happened to me. It was too much Alex, and my body just kinda shut down. Do you understand?" 

Another nod. 

"So you're not dying? Only you look better now than I can ever remember seeing you." 

"Well, mate. It's true that we all die sometime! But I hope I've got lots and lots of years ahead yet. And I look better because Auntie Sam looks after me......." 

The child sniffed again. 

"What happened to you Uncle Malc? Only no one will tell me, and I want to understand." 

Malcolm sat back on his heels with a puff. 

"Fuck!" He bit his lip at the curse, and Alex tried to disguise a smirk, despite his grave concern. 

"It's very hard for me to explain Alex, and very difficult to talk about." 

Seeing the youngster's face furrow in frustration, he continued. 

"Look.....I'll try......okay?  
When I was really young.....younger than you are now......something terrible happened to me......it was something so bad that it messed me up, made me alone, and afraid, and it affected everything I did as I grew up. It was so horrible that I couldn't live with it. Perhaps when you're a bit older I'll be able to tell you more about it in detail, but you are too young to understand right now, and I don't think you'd know how to process it, even though I know how grown up you are. I'm not trying to fob you off here mate, honestly, but there are some things that a ten year old shouldn't have to deal with, and this is one of them." 

"But you had to deal with it! And you were younger than me, you said!" 

Malcolm was astonished at his nephew's insight and the way his mind worked. 

"Yes! But that's the problem Alex. I DIDN'T deal with it. I didn't know how. I tried to shut it away. I tried to put it in a box and lock the lid, and leave it there. But I couldn't. It wouldn't go away. I couldn't tell anyone, because I didn't think they'd believe me. The longer I went without talking to anyone, the harder it became. It affected my whole life, everything I did. It made me lonely, and very scared. I shut people out. My marriage broke down, because I didn't know how to have a proper relationship. I became angry with the whole world. Was horrible to people. For years and years." 

"Then you met Auntie Sam?" 

Malcolm smiled. 

"Yes! I met her at the worst possible time in my life, when everything was falling apart." 

"And she made you better? And you fell in love with her?" 

"She did! And I did! She helped me, she supported me.....she loved me back. I went to get proper help, for the first time ever. I talked about all this stuff, for the first time too. It was very very hard Alex, and it made me ill. But, I needed to go through that in order to come out the other side......do you see?"

More emphatic nodding. 

"Now, I've faced it. Like fighting a dragon. I've fought, and I'm winning, slowly. It's not over yet, but I'm getting there. I'm better. Stronger. I'm dealing with it now. The box is open, it's out there, people know, I'm not so scared anymore......and that's good for me.......does that answer your question?" 

His reply was to wrap his little thin arms around Malcolm's neck, as he knelt before him, their faces pressed together. 

"I love you Uncle Malc!" He whispered earnestly. Burying his head into Malcolm's shoulder. 

"And I love you too Champ!" He replied, suddenly feeling a huge jolt of emotion. Steadying himself with a few deep breaths, he stood up. The boy still holding him, his legs wrapped around Malcolm's middle. 

"Tell you what.........Auntie Sam and I promised you on that visit, when I was ill, that you could come back to London with us and stay......with your sister.......would you still like to do that?" 

The excited face that greeted these words were answer enough.

"Oh! Uncle Malc! We'd love to! Yes please!" 

"Come on then! Better get back. We'll have to ask your mam and da for approval!"


	6. Friends and Family (part deux)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mainly about Sam. Her thoughts and feelings and struggles. 
> 
> An eye opener for her in more ways than one. Having Malcolm's niece and nephew to stay. 
> 
> Then a call from her brother Paul, with some news.......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is still scenes, but a little more in story form. There are a few references to the Shitstorm story in this, so obviously it helps if you've read it. But it's not essential. 
> 
> Sam has a real education, in having Malcolm's nephew and niece to stay. She learns a lot about herself, about her partner and about the children themselves.  
> She also overhears a conversation between Malcolm and Alex. 
> 
> Now let's be clear here.....the way the mind of a ten year old works.....Alex isn't particularly interested in the act itself, or knowing about it....he only really wants to know when he's getting a cousin! 
> 
> Sam and Paul......
> 
> This was a prompt from @petersgal ......thank you my dear! 
> 
> "Sam receives some very bad news......" 
> 
> Now I thought long about this.....Sam and Paul are close, before Malcolm he is pretty much all she has. So this, to her, is the worst possible news. 
> 
> Please don't think she's being selfish here. She isn't. She's brave as hell when she speaks to him, and of course she wants him to be happy. There's absolutely no doubt about that. 
> 
> But.......as we all do.....when we are left alone in the cold light of day.....we start to dwell on what we ACTUALLY think, but would never say. How things will ultimately affect us, in spite of our joy for the other person. And Sam does just that. 
> 
> She will miss him like bloody hell. 
> 
> She's lost most of her friends, now her brother is leaving too. 
> 
> She drinks, she becomes maudlin whilst mulling over the enormity of it, then begins to question whether her and Malcolm's relationship is strong enough to withstand it all.  
> They are becoming an increasingly isolated couple. 
> 
> Sam almost feels like they are lepers. No one wants to know them, for whatever reason. Fuelled by alcohol she is not thinking rationally, a worst case scenario. 
> 
> But this happens. Shit gets real. It's just a storm that has to be weathered. 
> 
> That's life.

FRIENDS AND FAMILY (part deux) 

 

Sam had to pinch herself. 

She was seated in the cafe, with Malcolm and his nephew and niece. 

Was it really true? 

She fell to musing, as she watched him, reaching forwards to cut up Caitlin's pizza, which she was struggling with. Chatting to them both about the day so far. 

Her only family was her elder brother Paul. She had very little experience of either babies or children.  
Had never really been sure of the strength of her own maternal inclinations.

After her parents death she concentrated on her studies, achieving her degree, going out to work, then applying, being interviewed and taken on, at the age of 24, by Mr. M. Tucker. Who's fearsome and difficult reputation preceded him. 

To her amazement, she fell in love with her job. 

Then she fell in love with him. 

All the other stuff was rather pushed aside. 

Now she found herself escorting a ten year old and a six year old around London. 

Being a responsible adult. 

She was learning an awful lot. 

It was a three fold education. 

Finding out things she didn't know about herself.......and about the man to whom she'd entrusted her heart........also, during the course of the week, finding out about the inner workings of the razor sharp mind of a young child, or rather two young children. 

Her first revelation, was that she discovered she enjoyed their company immensely and was relaxed and at ease with them both.  
Alexander was very astute and clever, but also very sensible and affectionate. He had yet to reach the more difficult teenage hormonal stage, was very easy going and asked an awful lot of very direct and pertinent questions.  
Caitlin perhaps, required a little more attention and a little more firmness of hand where the word 'no' was concerned. She was more manipulative and demanding than her brother, at first she tried to play her and Malcolm off against each other, but Uncle Malcolm was on to her straight away, and seemed to know just the strategy to win her over and to diffuse every situation. 

Sam learned from him every day. 

This was the second thing, that most surprised and enlightened her........Malcolm. 

'Uncle Malc'.

Completely and utterly loved by both children. Besotted with him.  
Apparently always had been. Hero worshipped by Alex, adored by Caitlin, who was always better behaved with him than she was with her. 

It was the way he was with them that astonished her.  
The way he spoke to them, always fair, always honest and never talking down to them.  
How he dealt calmly with any potential crisis.  
Simple and logical argument. No quarter given. So they knew exactly where they stood with him.  
He wouldn't stand any nonsense, but he was never cross with them, nor did he seek to belittle or humiliate. 

Reasoned, clear and straightforward. Infinitely patient.  
He would always take the time to listen to what they had to say, without speaking over them, never dismissive, and encouraged them to do likewise.

It was a side of this complicated man she'd never really witnessed, and she was genuinely amazed.

The final eye opener was the children themselves. 

How much fun they were. So eager and engaged. So open to all around them. Brother and sister so different. Much like herself and Paul had been. 

They didn't miss a trick either. 

Malcolm slipped up with the language a couple of times, but did his best to curb his natural instincts in that respect.  
They also immediately pounced on any displays of affection between the couple.  
Giggling if they kissed. Nudging each other when they held hands. 

Alexander had just had his Year Six sex education, so naturally, he knew everything about it.  
Since it was difficult and embarrassing to ask his parents, Malcolm became the font of all knowledge, as the boy was clearly very curious about a number of aspects he felt hadn't been adequately explained.

His motive for asking, however, wasn't quite what Malcolm thought.

The subject was broached one evening when Caitlin was in bed, and Sam in the kitchen.  
The boy was not aware that she could hear their conversation. 

"Uncle Malc?" 

"Yes, Alex?" 

"Can I ask you something?" 

"Sure. What is it?" 

"It's a bit personal." 

"Oh?" 

"Well.....at school we've been learning......how babies come." 

Malcolm swallowed. 

"Oh! Right!" 

"I can't ask mam.....or da, they go all daft and say I'll find out soon enough. But I want to know. So can I ask you......?" 

"What is it you want to know exactly?" 

"So a woman.........has an egg inside her.......that's right isn't it?" 

"Yep." 

"And a man has a seed........or rather lots of seeds.......?" 

"Yeah." 

"And they come out of the end of his.........his........" 

"Dick! Yeah." 

"Right.....well I was going to say penis......but I guess dick is the same thing?" 

"It is the same thing......just a bit less correct I guess." 

"And he has to put is pe........dick......inside the woman......to transfer the seed........?" 

"Uh huh!" 

Sam leaned against the lounge door, a wide smirk on her face. 

"Uncle Malc?" 

"Yes Alex." 

"So mam and da did that......and that's how me and Cait came to be born.......?" 

"Yep, pretty much. You seem to have all it down pat to me." 

"But Uncle Malc........"

Malcolm gave an eye roll. 

"Do you and Auntie Sam........you know.......do it......?" 

"Yeah, we do." 

"Because you love each other, like mam and da do." 

"Well, yeah. And because it's nice. Makes you feel close.....loved.....you know."

"Right. So, that's really what I wanted to know........when will you have your baby then?" 

"Er......Dunno. We've not discussed it. Not sure if Auntie Sam wants children, and I'm getting on a bit!" 

The childish brow creased. 

"And because you're not married to Auntie Sam." 

"Well, you don't have to be married to have a kid. But, no, you're right. I wouldn't want to have a child unless I was married to its mother. Because I'm a boring old codger, and that's what people from my generation do. It's not the quite same now. Now you can do what you like, pretty much." 

"Uncle Malc......."

"Now what........" 

"Will you marry Auntie Sam soon then, so you can do it with her and make a baby......because then it'll be my cousin, and my friend James has four cousins and I don't have any......and he was having a go at me about it........"

Malcolm tried not to smile. So that was what all this deep questioning boiled down to!  
His lack of a cousin.

"I can't honestly answer that Champ. Because I don't know the answer. I don't know if that's what Auntie Sam wants." 

"But Auntie Sam loves you.......so why wouldn't she want that.......?" 

"Lots of reasons. Babies might not be her thing or she might decide I'm not the right one for her, or I'm too old, or she loves me but not to have kids........lots of things......I dunno." 

"You love Auntie Sam tons, don't you Uncle Malc......?" 

"Yeah. I'd go to the ends of the earth for her. But don't tell her I told you that.....I wouldn't want her to think she's got me wrapped round her little finger!" 

Sam almost let out a half sob, half giggle, and clamped her hand over her mouth. 

"So will you ask her then? Soon?" 

"I'm not sure Alex. Because we're still finding out all that stuff. Things like that are really important, and you can't rush them. They take time. Also, I'd been going through all that shi.....trouble......we were talking about the other week.....you and me......so neither of us have really thought about that just yet. Maybe we will. Maybe we won't. Sorry I can't be more help." 

"That's okay. I like asking you stuff. You don't give me any crap........" 

Malcolm laughed. 

"Better not go home saying that phrase buddy. I'll get the blame for it! I'm in enough trouble with your mam for my language as it is!" 

"Sorry Uncle Malc......I'm going to go to bed now. Thanks for the chat......it's been nice, if ever you want to talk to me about anything again, just let me know.......and just for the record, I think Auntie Sam is amazing.......and really pretty too......just so you know......" 

"I do know. And thanks Alex, I'll remember that. Goodnight." 

"Night Uncle Malc." 

oOo

The moment of parting was more difficult than Sam imagined. 

Caitlin was in tears. Alexander clung to her like a limpet. 

"Thank you so much Auntie Sam. I wish you were coming to the station with us." 

"So do I, but my brother's message sounded urgent, so I have to see him. But I'll see you both again very soon. Thank you for coming to stay.....and give my love and hugs to your mum and dad!" 

Farewells completed and the two safely strapped into the back of the taxi, Malcolm turned to her and put his arms around her, pulling her close. 

"You okay darling?" 

"Yeah. A bit worried.....he sounded really nervy. Anxious. But I'll be fine."

"Alright. I'll catch the morning train tomorrow. Text me or call me later so I know what's going on, yeah?" 

"Okay." 

They kissed, and Malcolm held her for a last few seconds as if reluctant to draw away. From the back of the cab they could hear giggling. 

Leaning into the window, Sam blew both children a kiss. 

"Love you Auntie Sam!" They chorused. 

"Love you too! Bye. Safe journey. Bye Malc." 

The taxi pulled away, and Sam bit her lip to fight back tears. 

God! Crying because the kids were leaving! 

Who'd a thunk? 

oOo

"Hello Sis! Crikey......you look fab! This 'living with Malcolm' is agreeing with you!" 

Opening the door to admit her brother, enveloping him in a warm and tight hug, and not letting go. 

Sam's love for her sibling was deep. 

When her father died, a year after her mother, Paul had stepped up to the plate. Sacrificed his Uni, putting his course on hold for a year.  
Stayed with her, comforted her, taken care of her, and at seventeen, that was no mean task.  
Only twenty himself at the time, what he did was something so huge for Sam, that she would never forget it, or thank him enough. 

It created an unbreakable bond. 

Together they had discovered and read her father's journals. Found out about the horror of his boyhood and young adolescence.  
They wept together. Clung to each other. 

Now, here he was. In Malcolm's house for the first time. 

"Welcome to our humble abode!" She smiled, backing away, directing him through to the kitchen. 

He picked up on the word 'our' and smiled slightly to himself. 

If he was completely honest, Paul Cassidy had been petrified when Sam first phoned him to tell him about Malcolm. 

Thousands of miles away, on a research fellowship in Washington DC, effectively helpless, he felt she was making a huge mistake. 

It was not just the age difference that bothered him, although that was a factor.  
It was Malcolm's past.  
Was his sister looking for a substitute for their father?  
One whom she could save.....something she'd been unable to do for her Dad?

He considered that she was taking on an awful lot, without ever really knowing quite how difficult it might be.  
What was she letting herself in for?  
Knew just how strong and determined his sister could be, and how she would dash herself against the rock that was Malcolm Tucker, flinging herself to her destruction in an effort to fix him. 

His first meeting with Malcolm had been cordial. But Paul felt very protective of his only sister.  
If reputations were anything to go by, Tucker had little to recommend him. 

Then, during the evening, he watched them together. 

Saw the devotion. The joy. The utter and complete love between them. 

It was a rare thing. A symbiosis. 

During subsequent meetings, he became more and more at ease. He found he liked Malcolm. When relaxed, he was good company. 

It was the first time he'd really seen his sibling truly happy. 

He almost wept because of it. 

Because he wanted it so much for her. 

She'd been through hell. 

Now she had Malcolm. 

"Your phone call was very enigmatic. You got me worried.....what's up?" She was bustling, busying herself.  
Cups out, kettle on, biscuits on a plate........

"I wanted to talk to you......where's Malcolm?" He leaned against the kitchen counter, nervously drumming his fingers. 

She was watching him. 

"He's gone to take the kids back to Glasgow. They've been staying the week." 

Paul's brows furrowed in confusion. 

"You didn't tell me he had kids.....how did I not know this?" 

"No! Silly! They're his sister Nancy's children. His nephew and niece!" 

Her brother breathed anew. 

"Ah! I see. Thought I was odd they'd never been mentioned! Blimey......how did that go?" 

"We've had SUCH a fun time. They are great. And Malc is wonderful with them. It was quite an eye opener I must say!" 

She handed him a mug of tea. 

"Well......come on then......what's all this about? You seemed as nervous as hell on the phone......spill!" 

"I could never hide much from you could I?" His face was serious. 

They went into the lounge and sat down side by side. 

"Sam......can I ask you.......?" 

She raised an eyebrow in mute question. 

"You and Malcolm........do you think you'll stay together.......get married maybe?" 

Her reply was a huff. 

"I'm not sure why everyone is so bloody keen to get us down the aisle! I don't know Paul.....honestly. I hope we'll be together, I want that.......but we haven't thought too much about the future. At the moment we live for the day. It's the best we can do, and it's all either of us can cope with, especially Malcolm. He's still working through stuff.....we don't want to make rash decisions." 

"But you're happy though.......settled.......?"

"Yes! Very! Paul......what the hell is it? For Christ's sake......you're frightening me here......"

A deep breath, words blurted out......

"I met someone, last year, in Washington.......I love her.......she loves me......we want to get married........but........." 

Sam interrupted.

"But that's WONDERFUL! Fantastic news.....when do I meet her? When's she coming over? What's her name? She's coming to live over here.......wow.......it's......."

Arms around his neck, she was hugging, kissing, talking all in a flurry, then she stopped suddenly, feeling the stiffness in his body, sensing his unease, his silence.  
Releasing her grip, she leaned back and looked at him closely. 

"She's........she's not going to come and live here.........is she?" Her voice faltered. 

"No." Was all he could manage in reply, his eyes dropping to his lap. 

Her eyes blurred. Face creasing. 

"I understand." She whispered. 

Holding her tight by her forearms, he began again. 

"Sam, look at me!" 

Her eyes raised slowly, tears spilling. 

"This happened over a year ago. Before you moved in with Malcolm. I told her 'no'." 

Horror crept across her face as the realisation of the meaning of his words hit her. 

"What?" The word was no more than a breath. 

"I told her it was out of the question.....I couldn't leave permanently.......I couldn't leave y......."

Sam jumped up. 

"NO!" She cried. 

"Sam......it was my decision.......she said she loved me, she'd be prepared to wait and see......and, God love her, she has.......but now......."

He crossed the room to where she stood. 

"So! You put your life on hold......AGAIN! For me! Christ Paul! How many fucking times? Giving up everything.....UNI, friends, your life.......now your fucking girlfriend......because of me?" 

"Sam! I knew how bad it was......how ill Malcolm was.......shit, you only had to read the papers.....I didn't know what was going to happen.......if it would last between you two......I mean, let's face it.....the odds were stacked against you.......if he really loved you, the way you were clearly besotted with him.......how could I just swan off and leave you to cope alone.....? I'm all you've got for fucks sake! We only have each other. You and I!" 

She wept bitterly then. 

"So you wouldn't go? You'd stay behind? To take care of me........or in case I needed you? How do you think that makes me feel? Fucking hell Paul!"

"Sam. My darling sister. I love you to bits. I was afraid for you. I didn't really know Malcolm. He might have been a real shit for all I knew, most people you speak to would agree with that! But now I know it's okay.....he's okay......you're okay.......together.......you're happy........you and Malc.....you just kinda click......don't you? And it's great.....I'm so glad.......it's all I ever wanted for you, and I know what a struggle it's been......since Dad......."

She hung on his neck. Sobbing. 

"Oh Paul! You've no idea how much I love you. I'll never ever forget what you did for me. How much you gave up. How young we were. How afraid I was. Never! But if I thought for one moment, that I was keeping you from being with someone you've fallen in love with, I'd never forgive myself. How could I live with that?  
You've sacrificed enough for me. It's time. Time to do what Paul wants to do.  
Go to the States Paul. Marry her. Love her.....be happy. Make a life out there with her.  
And if she needs any reminding of the totally unselfish, kind, loving, wonderful person you are, tell her to come and find me......." 

The siblings cried together. 

"Are you sure? You'll be okay......won't you Sam? Only I'll worry if not.......but you'll come and visit......you and Malc? Come to the wedding? And we can email or Skype or FaceTime every single day......." 

"Of course we can.....the world is shrinking.....a person is only a heartbeat away at any given moment....."

"Oh thank god!" He breathed as if freed from a heavy burden. 

oOo

After Paul left, Sam poured herself a very large glass of wine. 

Then another. 

So. This was it. 

Her words to him had been brave. 

His mind at ease. 

Her's in turmoil. Thoughts churning. 

Things her slightly fuddled brain were processing. Things she would not, could not, say to her brother. 

He was leaving her. 

Going to live thousands of miles away on the other side of the Atlantic. 

Things would never be the same, no matter how hard they tried to make them so. 

Most of her friends had shown what fuckwits they were. Estranged from them all. People she'd known for years. 

It was just her, and Malcolm. Adrift. 

If he decided to end it, or they spilt up for whatever reason.......where would she be? 

On her third glass of wine, she what's app'd him.

_"Looks like it's you and me against the fucking world! S xxxx"_

The reply came immediately. 

_"WTF???? M xxx"_

_"Paul's fucking off to the US.....to live. Getting married. Would have gone last yr, but held off because of me. FML."_

Her phone rang, as she drained the last of the bottle. 

"Sam? What the fucks going on? Are you okay?" 

The voice on the end of the line was slurred, the words indistinct. 

"Course I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be okay? My brother has put his life on hold because of me.....again! And all because my father topped himself and he feels endlessly fucking guilty.......!  
Now he's sure I'm okay with you....he's going......fucking off to Washington.  
Am I okay with you Malcolm? Please say I am........  
My stupid titwank friends have abandoned me......because they're all cunts and they can't see passed my chosen partner's grey hair..........so everything is just absolutely fucking fantastic....I've got no frigging family......no friends......and I'm in love with a guy who's nearly twenty years older than me........who'll probably leave me on my own as well........yep.....everything is just tickety-boo.......hunky fucking dory........I hope to fuck you don't decide you don't want me either Malc......because I'm getting a bit damn low on acquaintances here......."

"Sam! I'm coming home. Now! There's a train from Central in an hour, and I'm on it if I have to sit in the corridor like Nicola fucking Murray......don't you dare do anything stupid.....or I swear to God......" 

oOo

It was several hours before Malcolm let himself in through his own front door. 

She was slumped on the sofa. 

Hand dangling down, limp, the empty bottle still held there, a second, rolled under the table.

For one awful moment he thought.........

.......but she was just out for the count. Pissed as a fart. 

She groaned as he put his arms around her and raised her up. 

"Sam? For fucks sake! Sam.....wake up!" 

"Gonna be sick......." She announced, then retched. Vomited all over the rug. Ramsey, who was asleep next to her, dodging out of the way just in time. 

A cup of coffee, lots of water, and a couple of tablets later, she was beside him in the bed.  
It was three o clock in the morning, and Malcolm was sitting up, wide awake, as she slumbered in his arms.

He'd carried her up the stairs, cleaned her up. Cleaned the carpet. Changed her out of her soiled clothing. Even tied her hair up in a ponytail for her as she'd been sick again and it was hanging in her mouth. A floppy rag doll.  
A bucket beside the bed, just in case. 

Throughout the proceedings, she wept, sobbing her heart out. Clinging to his neck.  
Asking him, over and over again......

"You do love me......don't you Malc? You do? You're not going to fuck off and leave me are you? I don't want to be by myself.......I love you so much.....I do........and I'm sorry.......I'm so sorry.........you do forgive me.....don't you Malc? I'll do anything. I'm an idiot. It won't happen again......I promise........" 

Most of it was drunken gibberish, profound melancholia bought on by far too much alcohol, but her words stung him nevertheless. 

Always so strong. Always there for him. Well, now it was his turn. He was damn well going to be there for her.  
His strength.  
He would show her. 

She wasn't alone. Never alone. Because she had him. 

And he fucking loved her more than life itself.


	7. Office Banter.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after the last chapter. 
> 
> Back at work. 
> 
> Malcolm in the office. 
> 
> Doing what Malcolm does!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This follows on directly from the last chapter. 
> 
> I'm hoping the reader will also be able to imagine Nancy's half of the telephone conversation. 
> 
> The scenes span the course of a single day. 
> 
> The Grammar school thing is in the current in the news at the moment, and is really there to illustrate Ben's role as a shadow cabinet member.

OFFICE BANTER. 

Samantha Cassidy, PA to Mr Malcolm Tucker, sat at her desk with her head in her hands.

She felt like utter shite.

Head spinning, stomach unstable, mouth like sandpaper.

Fuck it! She was never drinking again! 

She barely remembered the night before, Malcolm coming home. Still less what she said. It was all a blur. 

What she did remember, however, with crystal clarity, was the overheard telephone conversation between Malcolm and Nancy, the following morning.  
True she'd only heard his side, but she could guess the responses, and it affected her badly, made her feel truly terrible..........

 

.............."No, she's okay.....just got really drunk and was upset about her brother....sick as a dog...." 

...........

"I know Nance.....but she feels shut out and abandoned.....by everyone......I'd feel the same if you all went off, and I'd just lost shit loads of friends......there's only so much of a brave face you can put on it......" 

............

"It's because she's with me......sod it all, Nance....I'm such fucking bad news.....everyone who comes near me gets the crap beaten out of them......."

.............

"I know she does! She tells me she does all the time.....and I know she means it. But for how long? I can't ask it of her Sis....shackling herself to me.....how long before it's all too much and she realises what a fucking old cunt I really am and fucks off and leaves me?"

..............

"Of course I do! You know I fucking do! It's never happened to me like this before....that's what makes it ten times worse. Cos when it's over I'm gonna be finished. It's gonna frickin break me. You should have seen the state she was in last night. Sobbing she was. Saying she was sorry.....to me!!!........would I forgive her! Damn near broke my fucking heart. Knowing it's partly my fault. Fucking hell Nance, it's a bloody mess. We were so great last week, she was great.....with the kids......she was sparkling.....I found myself looking at her across the table once.....and.....Christ! FUCK!" 

He started to lose it. 

"I'm not giving up Sis! Not without a fucking fight. Fuck knows how but I've got to prove to her that it's worthwhile her sticking around. I've been awake all night, thinking about it. The thought of losing her........"

He was crying now. Sitting on the bottom of the stairs. 

"Shit! Shit! Shit! I love her so fucking much, it hurts Nancy. Sometimes I just ache for her.....you know? But I'm separating her from everyone else. Don't you see that? And she's young enough to make bold steps.....she could go to the States, with her brother, meet someone nice there. If it wasn't for me she would have her old mates still, but instead she's stuck here. Trapped. With a wizened old fuck, who everyone thinks is a cunt. It's no life for her at all. I'm a fucking wasteland. What can I give her? Fuck all. Who would want to see someone they love throw themselves on that bonfire? Certainly not me!" 

...............

"I know! I know! You don't need to tell me. That's because you're my sister. It's the same with Jamie. Because you were both there. You knew. No one else really does. Not even Sam." 

................

"No....I don't Nancy. I don't _deserve_ anything. No one does. It's not a case of deserving.  
But do I want it.......fuck yes!  
Who wouldn't? I'm flattered she even looks at me.....let alone all the rest.  
Yeah. Yeah, I know. I'm just feeling sorry for myself. She's seen me at my very worst, and she's still here......but I've only seen her really upset a couple of times.....and it just smashes me to pieces.....I can't bear it.  
Why? Why do you think? Because I want to make it alright. Make the pain go away.....and I can't. Fuck me....Nance.....what do I do? How do I help her? Make her see? Show her it'll be okay?" 

.................

"Yeah. Yeah. Alright, I'll do that. And I'll tell her. Be there for her. Course I will. For as long as she'll have me.......yeah......I fucking hope so too........alright. Fuck, I'm so tired Nance.....  
Listen, I'd better go....she'll be waking up, and she'll feel like crap. Okay. Yep, I'll ring later tonight. Okay. Bye. Love you too!" ..............

 

.............Sam groaned aloud at the memory. 

Sipping from a glass of iced water. 

Oliver Reeder had entered while she was otherwise occupied. 

"Christ!" He remarked, with a smirk. "What the heck happened to you? Had a spat with Daddy?" 

"Shut up you tosser!" She replied acidly. 

Reeder sniggered, sitting down opposite her and putting his feet up on the desk.

"Speaking of our loving parent! Where is he?" He asked. 

"Right behind you, you pathetic scrotum licker." The suddenness of the sound of the Scots burr made Ollie jump out of his skin. 

"What have I told you about putting your fucking feet on the furniture you pox pimple? And why are you here sexually harassing my PA? Hmmmm? No work to do?" 

The feet were removed immediately, and he tried valiantly to defend himself. 

"I wasn't sexually h........I wasn't.....I was just saying......." 

"I heard what you were just saying.........and I think that you and I need to have a little chat.....so get your skinny arse into my office you ponce, we'll see how clever and witty you are in there shall we?" 

Reeder's cheeks coloured visibly. 

"Say sorry to the lady......." Malcolm snapped, as he pushed him physically towards his office door. 

"Sorry Sam.....I didn't mean......." 

The door shut behind them both before the sentence was complete. 

oOo

 

As Ollie was coming out, suitably admonished, Nicola Murray was waiting to go in.

"I wouldn't if I were you!" He bleated. "He's got his bollocking face on, and no one's safe today. He's got the right hump!" 

"Oh crap!" Nicola groaned. 

Sam kept her head well down. 

The office door closed again. 

"Good morning Malcolm...." She began.

"Is it? Can't say I'd fucking noticed." Was the response. 

"Okay........so.........conference season coming up.....the delights of Bournemouth......any thoughts?" She tried again. 

"Plenty! And all of them unprintable." He snapped. 

"God! Darth Vader! Put your bloody light sabre away for crying out loud. I'm trying to talk to you here. It's important." 

"Important? Important? Oh, do me a fucking favour! Do ye think I've spent the last eight years in a box? I know exactly what's at stake here. It's arses out, facing the wall time. And the guy with the lubed horse cock is on his way!" 

Murray grimaced at the graphically painted image. 

"I need to know you've got my back, Malcolm.....that you're on side here." 

"What? You're questioning my fucking loyalty now, is it?"

Malcolm's eyes blazed.

"This coming from the woman who shat on my head and rubbed it in when Fleming was gunning to chop off my baw bag?" 

Nicola gave an eye roll.

"Oh god! You're not dredging that up again surely! My hands were tied Malcolm.....I couldn't say anything.....you know that. I didn't necessarily feel good about it." 

"Hands were tied you say? So were mine Nic'la my dear.......and I was gagged, and plugged and fucked from ear'oles to breakfast time." 

She winced again. 

"Now if you don't mind......I've things to do, people to bollock, arses to flay. So off you pop! I'll get back to you at the end of the day with an itinerary. Okay?" 

Without another word, the MP turned and stomped out. 

Pausing at Sam's desk, she gave the PA a sympathetic look. 

"How you put up with that God alone knows!" 

Then she was gone, heels clicking down the corridor. 

oOo

A paper cup of coffee, and a placatory croissant at elevenses. 

Malcolm was not working as she entered. 

He was sitting with his head in his hands. 

Glancing up as she entered. His face haggard.

Suddenly he looked old and tired. Much as he had months ago, but had since vastly improved.  
Nothing like his demeanour of the previous week when the children had been staying. 

Eyes red rimmed. 

Either with emotion or tiredness, or probably both. 

"Malcolm?" 

"Oh hi." He mumbled numbly. His eyes followed her movement, as she placed the cup and plate down, picked up some balls of screwed up paper from the floor. Depositing them into the waste basket. 

"Malcolm......just so you know.......I heard you speaking to Nancy this morning......I didn't want to not tell you......because I hate secrets and I want you to know........."

"Not now Sam." His voice was quiet. Dull and toneless. 

"But I need you to kn........." She pursued. 

"SAM!" The volume raised a little. His head cocked sideways, eyebrows knitted as if in pain. 

"Fucking not now! Please. I can't deal with this now. It'll have to wait till we get home....okay?  
I have to focus......and I'm struggling here.......can't you see that? Have a heart for fucks sake." 

He buried his head down into the crook of his arm, laid on top of the desk. Sucking in deep breaths. 

Coming round behind him, she encircled his shoulders and head with her arms. Her hand atop his as it lay against his hair.  
Resting her cheek down against him. 

"Okay. Just remember though.......I love you. I want to be with you. Nothing else matters in the cold light of day. I had a blip Malcolm. A meltdown. You have them. I have them. It's over. Done.  
You are what is important to me. What I heard you say to Nance was wrong. I'm not trapped. I'm right where I want to be. And that's anywhere you are."

Beneath her, his shoulders began to tremble, then shake. His head pressed against his own arm. 

She clasped him tighter. Kissing his hair. Letting her cheek rub against him. 

"I'm so terribly sorry I've made you feel like this. All because I was being selfish. And stupid. I wouldn't hurt you for the world. And I have. And it's unforgivable. Any idea how much you fucking mean to me?"

A nod from the depths of his jacket sleeve. 

"Malcolm.......please." She pleaded. 

His head raised slowly. Still sniffing loudly. 

"Love you Sam. Fucking hell!" 

"Come to the pantry. Let me clean your face." She whispered, touching his cheek. 

He leaned into the touch. Eyes swollen and wet. 

Once there, she dampened some kitchen roll. Placing it's coolness against is forehead and eyelids.  
He stood still, allowing her to do it. 

"There's much more I want to say to you Malc. But it'll keep till tonight." 

Reaching up on tiptoes, she sought his mouth with her own. Once latched on, he pulled her into him. Kissing her desperately. 

He was hard. She could feel him against her. 

She pulled back, her hands against his chest. 

"Not here Malcolm. Not now. Later.....okay.....?" 

"Fuck!" He whispered. Then cuddled her into him again, gasping for breath. 

"Ben Swain will be here any moment......." 

"Well, if that isn't enough to deflate an erection, I don't know what is!" He growled, but did his best to smile. 

They parted. Their hands trailing away from each other with reluctance. 

It was going to be a long afternoon. 

oOo

"Here he is.....Big Ben! The man who put the dong in Doncaster!" Malcolm clapped the back of the colossus that was Ben Swain MP, with a false brevity.

"Er....hello Malcolm!" 

"Have a seat sunshine! Tea?" 

"Yeah! Thanks.....got any biscuits?" 

Malcolm reached for the com button. 

"Sam? Tea for two please! And some hob nobs!" 

"Coming up!" 

Malcolm leaned back in the chair, surveying the dopey arse, who reminded him a little of a stonking great tower block. 

"So! Conference coming up......as our Secretary for State for Education, part of Nicola's Shadow cabinet, we are expecting a nice little speech from you......day two.....and keep the fucking blinking to a minimum!"

"A speech? Me! Oh lord!" 

"Oh yes, my Jolly Green Giant......we are going to shit all over the Government's plan to bring back Grammar Schools......as a policy it's something that's been plucked straight out of the Fifties......we are fighting elitist education for those who can afford a private tutor to pass an exam.  
All children, regardless of background deserve a traditional academic curriculum."

"And you want me to........" 

"Yes Benjamin! Yes! We want you.....nay, Nicola wants you......to throw your considerable bulk behind showing up the policy for what it is. A complete load of wank.  
It's a major issue.....and a vote winner for us.  
The education system should be focused on helping support ALL pupils to achieve their potential.  
And that's what you will be saying......with verve......with belief......with all the pathos you can muster! I'm counting on you Ben! Cometh the hour, cometh the man!" 

"Oh fuck!" Swain helped himself to his third hob nob and chewed thoughtfully. 

"I know you won't let me down! Now run along and play. Daddy has work to do!" 

"Can I take another biscuit? I had to skip lunch......" 

"I'll have Mummy after me, if you get fat from consuming too many carbs......oh, go on....take the lot! And get the fuck out of my office!" 

When he'd gone. Sam entered to clear the tea things. 

"How'd it go?" She asked.

"The man is a complete oversized dildo! In fact, come to think of it, his head looks like.....a giant circumcised prick. He sweats under the lights, and it looks like precum." 

Sam pulled a 'eww' face. 

"Watching him speak is like watching a weeping erect cock, the vein in the side of his head throbs, like he's wearing a cockring, tight round his neck......with one eye shut, the other looks like his slit.......am I painting a clear enough picture for you here?"

"I think I've got the gist Malcolm.....yeah." 

"This is what they give me to work with. Glummy mummy and a fucking great whang. Fuck my life!" 

Malcolm's phone buzzed. 

"Tucker!" He jammed it against his ear. 

"Angela! My darling! What can I do for ye?" 

He winked expressively at Sam, who shook her head and tutted knowingly.


	8. Morning Has Broken.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has had what can only be described as a blip.  
> Hearing Malcolm's conversation with his sister affected her deeply, now the working day is over neither can wait to get home. 
> 
> To be close. 
> 
> To reestablish their bond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A deep chapter this one. 
> 
> The sexy stuff isn't just sexy stuff for the sake of it. 
> 
> It's a coming together. An affirmation. Much needed and desired by them both. 
> 
> They are desperate for each other. 
> 
> Then we have them waking in the cold light of day........

MORNING HAS BROKEN. 

The end of a very long and tiring day. 

Malcolm was wired. 

High on far too much caffeine and heightened emotion.

No taking the tube today. Malcolm needed to get home. Needed to. Not a moment too soon. 

He held Sam's hand all the way home in the cab. Stealing sideways glances at her. 

Eyes dark and fierce. Pupils dilated. She almost quailed under the sharp intensity of that gaze. 

Jaw set firm, chewing the inside of his mouth, she could see the muscles working.  
Twitching with anticipation. 

Key in the lock and inside. 

He was on her almost before the door closed behind them. 

A little squeak of surprise from her as the plunder began. 

Mouth hot and insistent, hands roaming. Body crowding hers. Her arms lifted above her head, out of the way, and held there firmly. Pressed against the wall. 

Whispering her name. Like reciting a fervent prayer. Over and over. 

The clip tugged out of her hair, letting it cascade down to her shoulders. 

They took the stairs two at a time, wrenching at first their own clothes, then each other's. 

Buttons, zips, belts and fastenings. Pulled off frantically and discarded. 

When his trousers refused to be parted from his ankle he kicked them forcefully, falling onto the bed.  
She was on him in a moment. Her hands stroking between his legs roughly. 

Skin on skin. That's what he wanted. What he relished. The feeling he'd been craving since the morning. 

They rolled and tumbled together in a frenzy of kissing, licking and touching. 

Breathless, sweaty. Needy. 

"Fuck Sam....how to I prove it to you....? How much? Just how much I........" 

"Malcolm! Malcolm! And how do I convince you? What can I say or do to make you see.....?" 

His fingers were inside her. A series of breathy cries as he hit the right spot. 

Levering her onto her back, mouth at her throat. Marking her. Claiming her. 

She turned them both suddenly, flipping him off balance. Poised now, above him. Her hair falling forwards so provocatively.  
Taking control. Taking back the possession.  
Biting his nipple teasingly until he cried out and bucked beneath her. 

"You're mine!" She hissed, laving the spot with her tongue, her hand finding his erection, stroking his shaft, playing with him.  
His eyes fluttered shut, gasping through his open mouth. Wet fingers now gripping the bottom sheet.  
Brow furrowed with concentration as he lost all sense of everything except the movement of her hand and his desperate thrusts as he frotted himself against her, in an effort to find the friction he so desired. 

But the touch wasn't sufficiently firm to get him off, just enough to drive him completely crazy. 

With a growl he slid his arms, which had been clutching the bedstead behind him, around her and turned her, as she had turned him. 

Now _he_ was poised over _her_ body. 

Powerful. The sinews in his neck and his collarbones stretched and taut.

His wiry arms holding him as if suspended. Looking down on her, feral, breathing rapid and shallow. 

"Sam?" 

He was asking. Positioned at her entrance. His tip just brushing against her. Holding off until she assented. 

"May I?" 

"Fuck me." Her voice was a salacious, harsh whisper. 

The sound she made as he sank himself inside her, almost made him come there and then. 

For a moment he stilled. Trying to take the focus away from his prick and his need for release, and concentrate on her, giving her as much pleasure as was within him to deliver. 

She was writhing now, lifting herself to meet each of his deep strokes. Her fingers raked his back, holding him against her firmly, not allowing him to lift himself up, or to make space between their bodies. 

Close. She needed him close. To feel his penetration. His heat. His love. 

They tossed together amongst the rucked sheets, her legs wrapped around him now, high, almost at his waist, heels digging into his back. 

Urging him ever deeper. Her cries increasing as she felt herself reaching her peak. 

There was nothing he could do to hold off now. Brain in white out. When his release came he threw back his head with a roar of completion. 

Moans gradually silenced. Damp with perspiration. His head buried against hers. 

Eyes wet. 

Clinging to her. 

"Oh god Malcolm!" She murmured. Placing little pecks against his ear. 

They lay thus for some while, as he softened. Still inside her. Reluctant to break the connection. 

Slow, lazy kisses. Drawing her bottom lip into his mouth and pulling gently. 

Eventually his weight became too much. 

"I need to pee." She whispered, and he rolled away with a sigh. Exhausted. 

Following her into the bathroom, they showered together, as they often did.....because Sam loved it so much, and so, now, did he. 

Holding him against her body, as the water battered down on them. 

Caressing him. Bending to take him in her mouth, his legs almost buckling beneath him, the effort to stay upright almost too much. Feeling himself becoming aroused again.  
Fuck, how did she do this to him?

"Stop Sam.....let me just......."

Strands of her wet hair clung to her, as she stood, the mounds of her breasts pressed against him.  
Bending his head he sucked on one side tenderly, letting his tongue swirl against her nipple. 

She moaned, and leaned against the tiles. Letting him have his way. 

He was hard out of his mind again. 

But this time they took it slow. 

Sensual. 

He pleasured her, as she lay, her legs over the edge of the bed, splayed wide. His hands on her thighs. 

Kneeling on the floor. 

The feel of his tongue against her, still so sensitive, little whimpers coming from her, her muscles trembling. Bringing her so close. 

Crawling up her body, kissing and sucking as he moved. Mouth and chin wet with her juices. Their bodies still damp from the shower. 

"Love me Malcolm......love me again......"

A gasp. 

The sense of him filling her. Slow deep thrusts, almost pulling out before sinking slowly back in. 

"Oh Christ Sam, I fucking love you so much........" 

She was shuddering helplessly beneath him now, eyes open and holding his gaze.

"So fucking beautiful.....love to watch you when you come......" 

His own release was no less fulfilling, despite there not being much ejaculate there. 

He'd held off as long as he could, almost coming dry. Lost in euphoria. 

Spent. 

"Cuddle me close Malc." 

He rolled onto his side, drawing her into him. Her head against his chest, their legs entwined. 

She murmured words as she began to drift. 

"Don't leave me Malc. I need you so much, more than you'll ever know." 

"Not goin' anywhere darlin'. You hang on to me. Never letting you go.....never......" 

She gave a contented hum. 

"Love you Malc." She murmured, snuggling even closer. 

"Fucking love you too Sam....." 

 

oOo

 

Opening her eyes blearily, Sam was aware that the radio was playing. 

She was lying, completely surrounded by Malcolm's warmth. 

Still on her side, she'd barely moved all night. 

He was wrapped around her body like an octopus. Facing her. Faces inches apart. One leg between her thighs, the other on top. 

His arms tight around her, her own tucked into her chest, hands flat against his sternum. 

For a few moments she delighted in the glorious feeling. His chest rising and falling under her fingers. Snoring very gently. Mouth slightly open. 

On the radio was the 'Today' programme. 

The sound of the pips filtered through to her waking consciousness. 

The pips.

That meant it was something o' clock. 

Six probably, she mused idly. That's when it was set to come on. They'd have to stir soon. Begin the day. 

But she didn't want to. 

Never wanted to leave this cocoon. 

Warm. Safe. Loved. 

Nuzzling closer, if that was physically possible, Malcolm stirred, smacking his lips, tugging her into him and giving a little mew of contentment. 

Vaguely Sam was aware that she was thirsty. She probably needed to piss, but didn't want to move. She couldn't remember a night when she'd slept so deeply. Restorative, dreamless, blissful sleep. 

With Malcolm. 

Her dear one. 

As she lay there, daydreaming, thinking about the night before, it occurred to her that they'd had no dinner......they'd just fallen, literally, straight into bed. 

At it hammer and tongs. 

Their physical union affirming their mutual bond. 

The fucking Vulcan mind meld. 

As one. 

In every way. 

Now she was hungry as a lioness. Stomach rumbling and empty. 

The voice on the radio began to intrude on her hazy thoughts. 

_"And now at 8.27 we go over to Rob Bonnet at the sports desk, morning again Rob......"_

She yawned, and stretched herself, raising her head slightly, she could see the Ramsey the cat was lying curled up at Malcolm's back. 

Like a furry hot water bottle.

She idly wondered how he'd managed to get in, before realising they'd left the bedroom door wide open in their sexual frenzy. The floor strewn with their discarded clothing. 

The cat never needed an invite. If he could sneak in with them, he would. 

It was a very slow dawning. 

What did John Humphries just say? 

8.27? 

Stupid man, he'd got the time wrong. He did that sometimes. 

The pips for six o clock only went a few moments ago. 

Didn't they?

Raising her head and pushing her wildly dishevelled hair from her eyes again, she looked at the clock on her bedside table. 

8.31. 

Malcolm's phone began to buzz loudly and insistently. 

Still it hadn't really sunk in. 

Reaching across his body she snatched at it. 

Malcolm moved beneath her weight as she almost kneed him in the nuts, opened his eyes and groaned. 

"Who the fuck is that at this hour?" 

"Hello?" Sam held his phone to her ear, scratching her tousled head as if she had fleas. 

"Sam? That you? Where the fuck is Malcolm?" It was Nicola. 

oOo

The awful truth hit them both simultaneously. 

Their eyes wide, looking at each other in horror. 

Not only had they overslept, but they were horribly, horribly late. 

"FUCKING FUCKETY FUCK!" 

Malcolm exploded. The cat shot into the air. Flinging back the covers and swinging his legs out of the bed. 

Cock at half mast.

But quickly deflating. 

"I've got a meeting with Nicola and the General Secretary of the TUC at nine! Christ on a fucking bike!" 

They proceeded to perform a kind of convoluted _'danse macabre'._

A flurry of frantic activity, circling around each other like two whirlwinds. 

An invective of choice swear words......from them both. 

Malcolm hopping on one foot as he struggled into boxers and socks. 

His suit from the night before rumpled to the point of no return. Still in a heap on the floor. He grabbed another from his wardrobe, navy.....and a clean white shirt. 

Sam flung him his pale grey tie, with the little fleck on it. He caught it but didn't tie it, just slung it casually round his neck. 

"Jesus! I stink!" He groaned. 

No time for a shower, just spray copious amounts of deodorant over the odour.

Dragging a wet comb through his hair. Grabbing his electric razor, and buzzing it round his chin as he hurried downstairs. 

Sam was on the phone for a cab. 

Then rang through to the General Secretary's office to inform them that Malcolm was unavoidably delayed and sent his profuse apologies. 

Almost falling down the stairs as Ramsey trailed along just in front of her, tail in the air. 

She'd grabbed a pair of knickers, putting them on one handed as she spoke into the phone, and reached the kitchen, still fastening her matching lace plunge bra, which Malcolm, in spite of his hurry, didn't fail to raise an eyebrow at, as just a hint of a pink nipple was visible. 

She glared at him for ogling. Then winked. 

Buttoning a crisp blue cotton blouse over the top. 

"Cab'll be here in five!" She cried, grabbing the papers he'd need for his meeting, shuffling them and putting them ready to pick up as they left. 

She released the cat flap lock, snatched a pouch of Sheba from the cupboard and tipped it unceremoniously into Ramsey's bowl.  
"That'll have to do you for now!" She exclaimed apologetically, as the animal rubbed around Malcolm's legs.  
She poured him fresh water, then sprinted back upstairs. 

Tights. Skirt. Jacket. Necklace. 

Makeup bag......no time to apply it......she'd just have to do it in the taxi. 

Then she caught sight of her hair! 

"Oh Fuck!" 

A birds nest. 

Yanking a brush through it, she piled it all on top of her head and clipped it firmly in place. 

"TAXI'S HERE!" Malcolm yelled up the stairs. 

Feet shoved into court shoes.

Out into the world. 

Once on their way, she sat, applying foundation and eye shadow, mascara and lipstick hoping there wouldn't be too many bumps, so she didn't poke her own eye out. 

Malcolm was tying his tie, and still, inexplicably had his razor in his hand. 

Which actually turned out to be quite lucky, because on inspection of his face, Sam found he'd missed a couple of bits. 

Suddenly he held on to both her hands, just as she was running her fingers over his face, hunting for any remaining prickly patches. 

"Sam.....fucking fuck me!" Then he began to laugh. 

Fits of giggles assailed them. 

"I don't believe it!" She choked. "How did it happen? I don't think I've ever done that in my life!" 

"And I certainly haven't! Not unintentionally anyway!"

"We'll get no end of stick!" She creased up again. 

"Just let them dare! I'll fucking eviscerate them!" He grinned evilly. 

"Here we go guv!" The cabbie drew up outside Congress House. 

Smoothing themselves as they emerged, Sam glanced at her watch.  
Only twenty minutes late. 

She looked at Malcolm. 

"9.20." She said, triumphant. 

"Could have been caught in traffic!" He smiled. 

They high fived. 

"We'll grab a coffee on the way in!" He beamed. 

Then, to her surprise, dropped a kiss on her lips. 

"Fucking amazing woman!" He whispered. 

"Fucking wonderful man!" She returned.


	9. In and Out.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More little scenes. 
> 
> At home. (In) 
> 
> And not at home. (Out) !

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of things here. 
> 
> There are more references to Shitstorm, the first chapter when Malcolm first goes to Sam's flat. 
> 
> The * referring to the 'douf douf's'......non Brits will not know what this is! EastEnders is the flagship BBC Soap Opera. It's theme music is pretty iconic and begins with a strong drum beat, known colloquially as the 'douf doufs' as that is the nearest approximation to the sound! 
> 
> All places mentioned are real. 
> 
> I was reminded the other day, by a post on tumblr, that for the two years hiatus between series three and the beginning of series four, not much happened. 
> 
> This is borne out by Malcolm's conversation with Ollie in the cafe. 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>  
> 
> It is for this reason that I think there is time where Malcolm is less busy, can take more time for himself, and not worry too much about doing so. It fits in perfectly with the au I've created. Hence the holidays, outings etc and the fact that following his revelations he doesn't care so much about the job anymore.  
> It's not the manic driven Malcolm from the first three series. He is quite different after the election, and his run in with Steve Fleming. Quite different. The Shitstorm, and now this story tells us why.

IN AND OUT.

 

Sometimes days just went well. 

Not always. 

But sometimes. 

They were just good days. 

Sam and Malcolm were home for the evening at a reasonable time. 

Relaxed. 

All was right with the world. 

Those days were few and far between, and therefore precious. 

Showered and refreshed, Sam was sitting slumped in front of the TV in her dressing gown. 

Ramsey, unusually, fast asleep on her lap. 

She was stuffing her face with Pringles. Idly watching the News. Scratching the cat behind the ears absentmindedly.

He purred contentedly. 

Malcolm was in the kitchen. 

He had the radio on. Listening to _"I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue!",_ the antidote to panel games. 

It made him laugh. 

He was busy threading chicken pieces, which he'd marinated in a satay mixture, onto wooden kebab sticks. 

Ready to stick under the grill. 

Malcolm cooked. 

He always had. 

Even in his darkest days when he was eating microwaveable meals for one during the week, or worse, nothing at all......at weekends, he would cook. 

Loved it. 

Mucking about with food. Creating. 

It was calming. 

Sam could cook too, more than adequately. But Malcolm derived more enjoyment from it. 

She was happy to let him if that's what he fancied doing. 

They ate together, chatting about this and that. 

Comfortable. Companionable. 

The cat sitting beside him, giving him a pleading look. 

"Fuck off Ramsey, you can't eat this, it'll give you guts ache!" He said, looking down at the animal fondly. 

"He just wants what you've got!" Sam smiled. "Don't encourage him!" 

"I'm not fucking encouraging him! He always queues up at mealtimes, and looks at me like we starve him! It's that fucking 'puss-in-boots' look. Big eyes. Begging. Thinks I can't resist him!" 

Sam cleared the plates away, before joining Malcolm and the cat on the couch. 

Ramsey wanted to commandeer his lap but he had to play second fiddle to a tub of ice cream, disgruntled, he settled himself instead at the side of Malcolm's thigh. 

Lifting his arm for Sam to come join him, she snuggled underneath it, close, a spoon in her hand. 

They put their feet up on the pouffe. Side by side. 

"What we got?" She giggled, leaning over him to look. 

"Phish Food. The Chunky Monkey is all gone and I didn't fancy Caramel Chew Chew." He replied philosophically, digging in his spoon and carving off a mouthful. 

She dug her spoon into the tub too, as he held it towards her, letting out a contented.....

"Mmmm!.......Yum!" 

Malcolm smiled down at her, giving her a peck on the lips. 

Her eyes were shining. 

"Do you remember? We did this the first time we were ever together.....I mean properly together, the first time you came to my flat......and ended up staying......seems like a lifetime ago now!" 

"I'll never forget that weekend as long as I live......." His reply was thoughtful as he licked his spoon. 

"......nor will I forget how I felt waking up that Saturday morning.....fuck me!" 

He turned to her, sitting forward. Placing the tub to one side. 

"So much has happened since Sam.......you've no regrets?" His face was suddenly clouded.  
An earnest, almost doleful expression. 

The kiss she gave him was warm, deep and passionate. She tasted of ice cream. 

"I hope that answers your question." She whispered, tucking herself into his side again, one arm across his belly. 

Leaning his head against hers, he gave a deep sigh. 

Bringing his other arm around he interlocked his fingers tightly. 

"Doesn't get better than this." He murmured. "Today was a good day." 

"Days like this are the best......" on the TV the _'Douf Douf's'*_ began......."Oh, bollocks.....it's EastEnders......find something else Malc.....or let's watch a film!"

He reached forward lazily, grabbing the remote. Channel flicking. 

Found an episode of _The Mighty Boosh_ on Dave. 

"This'll do!" He said, and settled himself back with Sam in his arms, to watch. 

It wasn't long however, until he was snoring gently. 

Sam sat up gingerly, looking into his blissfully sleeping face. 

"Love you! Idiot!" She whispered. 

 

oOo

 

Grabbing her handbag and slinging her raincoat over her arm, the two took the stairs rather than the lift. 

Sam and Malcolm emerged from the Norman Shaw buildings with the air of two people just released from prison. 

It had been a busy day. 

"Thank fuck for that! He breathed, and hailed a black cab. 

Holding her hand tight he pulled her precariously through the swirling London traffic and opened the taxi door, stepping back to allow her in first. 

"Fenchurch Street, please mate!" He said into the glass partition, as the cabbie pulled away. 

"Where are we going? Aren't we going home?" Sam looked confused. 

"Nope! Going out! Date night! It's our anniversary." He replied with a sideways glance and a grin. 

"Anniversary? No it isn't, that's not till........wait.......what anniversary?" More perplexed than ever. 

"Anniversary of the day we moved in together......." 

"Shit! Is it? How the heck did you remember that.......?" 

"Because I'm brilliant and the model man.....practically perfect in every way.....like Mary fucking Poppins!" 

Sam laughed out loud. 

"Ha! Perfect? Yeah right! You're a classic......I'll give you that.....one of a kind certainly.....but perfect? Nope Malc, not even _you_ are that!" 

He looked crestfallen. 

"I love you though." She added, hurriedly. "Faults and all. And you love me......I hope.....and I've plenty of faults too.....as has everyone. Now.....since you're so wonderful, and are seriously racking up the Brownie points here......where are you taking me?" 

"You'll see." He winked. 

"God! Sometimes, I swear to.....you're just.....just......"

"Lovely?" 

"Infuriating!" 

Malcolm tipped back his head and laughed, and Sam's heart gave a lurch. It was so good to see him laugh like that. So good. 

He'd booked a table at the Fenchurch Restaurant in the Sky Garden. 

At the top of the 'Walkie Talkie.'

The high speed lift made Malcolm's ears go pop. Stepping out onto the glass terrace, joining the throng of people milling about admiring the vista, he led her to the bar. 

They stood on the balcony, sipping their drinks, looking down on the tiny narrow streets hundreds of feet below. 

It was a clear evening and the view was magnificent. 

Their arms linked. Shoulder to shoulder. Pointing out the sights, St Paul's, seemingly engulfed in a sea of modernity. Canary Wharf. Greenwich, the curve of the River and Tower Bridge. 

Once seated at their table, perusing the menus, Sam took the opportunity to gaze around her. 

City people mostly. Well dressed. Bankers, brokers, clerical staff. 

Professional people. The hub of the City of London. The heart of the financial world. 

The place was buzzing. 

They ordered more drinks. Clinked glasses. 

"Happy Anniversary to us!" 

"Christ! Is it really a year? Can't believe it!" 

"I can't believe you're still here!" He admitted ruefully. 

She huffed at him. 

"I told you........" She began.

"I know, I know........you're not going anywhere......and I do believe.....I do......." 

A waitress arrived to take their order. She brought rosemary bread and olives, a small rectangular tray with little bowls, each filled with rock salt, balsamic vinegar and olive oil. 

They ate and talked. 

Reminiscing. 

So many events, so much had happened. Good and bad. Life. 

Life happened. 

Malcolm didn't look back in anger so much now, it wasn't necessary. When he tried, he found the memories hazy, blurred, the edges smoothed.

It didn't hurt quite so much. 

The future, however, was still something that scared him. 

Sam knew.

A month or so ahead was quite far enough. He didn't dare. Couldn't allow himself the luxury. 

One year was a relatively short time. She wasn't in a hurry. Accepted what he could manage, what he could cope with. 

She thought he coped very well. 

Their food was delicious. Malcolm didn't like a great plateful. His appetite was moderate. Nouvelle cuisine was too pretentious, you needed to go for a curry afterwards, but a nice meal, well presented, made him a happy bunny.

When desserts arrived, the plate had _'Happy Anniversary'_ written in liquid chocolate and a candle each. 

Malcolm frowned. 

"Did you.....?" He looked at Sam across the table. 

She smiled. 

"I might have had a quiet word with the waitress......." She confessed. 

"........Couldn't let you get away with being the only one remembering such a momentous day entirely! It's been lovely Malc. This. This is lovely. You are a dear. I love you." 

He gave a bashful smile. 

"Fucking love you Sam.....you know that though, right?" 

"I certainly do. You're quite the romantic when you want to be aren't you? And very thoughtful too. You never cease to amaze me." 

"Keeping the romance alive is the most important thing. Not getting in a rut.....staid.....you know?" 

"Yes. I know. And you do it very well. Thank you!" 

He took her hands in his across the table, and raised them to his lips. Kissing them. 

"You done? Shall we go somewhere else, or you wanna head home?" 

"I think we should go home, I want to thank you properly!" 

Her flirty look went straight to his groin. 

"Great! Let me pay the bill then. Home it is!" 

There was a distinctly satisfied smirk on his face. 

oOo

It was still warm for September. 

A true Indian Summer. 

Leggings. Trainers. A running top. Sweat band. 

Hair in a ponytail which bobbed as she ran. 

Earphones screwed into her ears. 

Sam jogged happily through the park. 

Freedom. 

Just the rhythm of her feet, the movement of her arms. 

How she loved going for an early morning run on a Sunday. 

The trees were just beginning to change, the summer plants fading. The year drawing slowly to a close. 

Blackberries hung from the bramble bushes like purple shiny jewels. Fallen apples on the ground. The squirrels busy gathering acorns. 

A mellow time. 

Heavy dew on the grass. 

Glancing at her watch she turned for home. 

Thoughts of Malcolm. 

She wondered what he was up to. 

He'd recently joined a gym. Liked using the exercise bike. But not on a Sunday. 

His Sunday morning was sacrosanct. An established routine. 

Letting herself into the house, she wandered through to the kitchen. 

Puffing. 

Hands on hips. 

Perspiration trickling. 

There he was. 

Out in the garden. Comfortable in the armchair, legs crossed. 

Black jeans, a T shirt, bare feet. Hair delightfully mussed. 

Sunday papers spread out on the iron table, coffee pot and mug beside him. 

Utensils and a frying pan were sitting ready on the kitchen counter. 

Fresh fruit chopped up in a bowl. Banana, strawberries, kiwi. 

Hearing her, he looked up, folding the newspaper and giving her a wide smile. 

Rising, picking his way gingerly across the gravel, he came to her side, dropping a little kiss on her lips. 

"Good run? Eww, you're all sweaty!" 

She wiped her face with the towel that was casually slung around her neck. 

"I feel fantastic!" She breathed. 

"Go jump in the shower then, batter's ready......I'll make us pancakes!" 

She raised an eyebrow in surprise. 

"Wow! Get you!" She laughed. 

He smacked her bottom playfully. 

"I'll get started. Go! Wash!" He grinned impishly. 

Dressing gown. Hair wrapped in a towel. 

Sitting together in the sunshine, surrounded by her all her colourful plants in pots. 

Eating a stack of delicious pancakes with fresh fruit and a blob of crème fraîche.

"You realise I'll need to go for another run after this lot!" She laughed. "God, they're so yummy!" 

"Can't believe I never sat out here, before you came to live......" He mumbled, through a mouthful. 

"......I love it now......Ramsey does too....." He pointed to the lazy tom cat, who was asleep stretched out under the lilac, his favourite spot. 

"We've had a lot of use out of it this year for sure." She replied, still munching. 

"It's lovely." His eyes scanned around him with pleasure. 

"What shall we do this afternoon?" She asked, stacking the dirty plates. 

"Why don't we drive out, find a nice old pub somewhere, by the river perhaps.....Henley.....it's lovely there.....have a late lunch, glass of wine.....then come home and chill.....?" 

"Sounds lovely! I'll run and put some clothes on.....ready in a jiffy." 

They walked the tow path. Hand in hand. 

Watching the rowers, gliding by, seemingly effortlessly. Moving forward as one, their oars dipping into the water.

Lunch at The Angel on the Bridge. Overlooking the river. 

Perfect. 

Malcolm sat back in his seat and puffed. 

"I'm stuffed...." He stretched and yawned. "......and sleepy!" 

"I'll drive back." Sam looked at him fondly, ".......then you can have a kip......." 

"Christ! I sound like a fucking old grandad!" He groaned. "If we leave now we'll be home in time for The Antiques Roadshow!" 

Sam laughed, and leaned into him. 

"Tell you what.....there's the old travel rug in the back of the car, let's take it by the river bank, find a place to sit, and you can have a nap there.....and so can I for that matter." 

"Sounds like a plan!" 

The afternoon sun was warm. A buzz of insects. The sound of the gentle lap of water, as the Thames meandered lazily through the countryside. 

They lay on their backs side by side on the rug. 

The sky, blue overhead, red kites circling above them. Hanging, seemingly suspended in the air. 

Malcolm soon drifted off. Full of lunch and wine. 

It wasn't long before Sam followed him into the Land of Nod. 

When she woke some half an hour later, Malcolm was snoring like a piglet beside her. 

"Hey, sleepyhead! Time to go!" She whispered, nudging him gently.

He woke with a snort and a wheeze. Not sure where he was for a moment. 

"Huh? Wha? Shit! How long have I been dozing?" 

"Not too long. But it's getting late. We'll hit all the traffic." 

He sat up, rubbing his eyes. 

"Fuck! I was away in fairyland there!" He puffed. "Christ! My back aches. The ground is hard....and a bit damp....." 

Sam got to her feet. Standing over him.

"Come on!" She held out a hand to pull him up. "If you're really good I'll massage some soothing oil into it for you when we get back." 

"Really? Hell yeah! That'd be great!" 

Malcolm loved back rubs.....they usually ended most agreeably!


	10. Last Times.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm has his final appointment. 
> 
> Sam says goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first scene in this chapter refers back to the Shitstorm story. 
> 
> Obviously if you've read it it helps. But you will still get the gist if you haven't. 
> 
> The second part is mainly about Sam and her brother and their farewell.
> 
>  
> 
> (For non brits the FT is the Financial Times....the bible newspaper for banker, clericals, etc, it is world famous and printed on pink paper.)

LAST TIMES.

Malcolm sat in the chair looking across the desk at Mr Faversham. 

Didn't need the couch now. No lying down. No aromatic candles or muted lighting. 

Just two men, therapist and patient, opposite each other, talking. 

"Well, if you're sure Mr Tucker." 

Still Mr Tucker. 

Somehow Malcolm had never been able to progress to first name terms. 

Preserving a sense of detachment. 

Professionalism. 

Mr Faversham was referred to as 'doc'.....always, and he was never Malcolm. 

"It's been just over a year now. It's time." 

The counsellor regarded his patient shrewdly. 

"You've come a long way." 

"Yeah." A shrug. Matter of fact. 

Malcolm didn't like to dwell too much on _that_ day. Or the subsequent days. 

Pain. 

That was what he chiefly remembered. 

And fear. 

Confronting his past. 

But he kept coming. 

With Sam at first, then alone. 

"I'm better. I feel I can cope. Some days I don't even think about it at all. Then I realise I haven't. I get a twinge of guilt. But it passes. That pain in my chest, that ball of emotion, that was the breakthrough. Shedding that was like shedding my own skin. A kinda rebirth I guess." 

Malcolm came out with philosophical statements like that nowadays.  
He'd analysed it all a thousand times. Pinpointed each moment. Picked it apart at the seams. Broken it down to its most raw. Wept. Smashed a fist in anger. Surrendered himself and let it all pour out.  
Learning to be open and honest, both to himself and with his doctor. 

At first it was hard. He felt like a twat. 

Saying this stuff out loud to another person. A stranger at that. 

But it got easier. 

Now he didn't give a fuck. Said exactly what was on his mind. 

The 'doc' knew pretty much everything there was to know. Nothing held back. 

His childhood, his adolescence, marriage and divorce. His entire life more or less. 

He talked about Sam too. His hopes and fears. Their relationship. 

Mr Faversham would have dearly liked to have her as a patient. He felt there were deep and unresolved troubles there. 

"It doesn't necessarily have to be a complete break away. You can leave it a while. See how you get on. Come back if you need to." 

"Yeah. I figured that. But now I'm ready to move on. Some of the other victims meet regularly, a self support group, but that's not for me. I feel there's no more to gain by talking about it. I've well and truly thrashed it out. I'm dealing with it now, and I want to be able to think about other things.  
Like the future. Like Sam.  
Struggling with that at the moment, and dredging up old stuff isn't helping anymore.  
It's something I need to face by myself." 

"Very noble sentiment, Mr Tucker. One I'm sure you will manage to work through. Sometimes there are things that have to be confronted alone. That's entirely up to you. At least you are no longer afraid of your emotions. More in tune with letting them come out. But I'm here if you need me." 

"Fuck yeah! Tell me about it. I hadn't shed a tear in over twenty years. Now I blub like a bloody schoolgirl at every fucking opportunity!" 

"And you saw that as weakness! But it isn't. It's strength. You needed to release all that Mr Tucker. You'd held it in for far too long." 

Malcolm laughed, and not without a certain bitterness. 

"Yeah. I know. Talk about being in touch with your feminine side! Fuck me!" 

"You cope very well indeed, Mr Tucker. You are lucky, your lady understands you well. It always helps to have a shoulder, if you are about to cry!" 

Malcolm rose, reached out his hand, they shook warmly. 

"I'll say farewell, I wish you all the very best Mr Tucker. I'm sure you'll do just fine. Don't forget to allow yourself permission to take a break if you need it. Take time for yourself, it isn't selfish, it's necessary. Most of all, live. Just that. Live." 

"Thanks Doc. For all you've done. I might not have always have said it, but I appreciate it. You've helped me a great deal, and you can't put a price on that." 

Malcolm emerged from Mr Faversham's office for the final time. 

He felt light. 

Or rather light headed. 

Instead of going back to Whitehall, he wandered across to St James's. Bought himself a coffee.  
Sat on a bench, watching the world go by. 

Taking that time. 

Kiddies feeding the ducks. Playing ball or frisbee.

Joggers. Dog walkers. 

Cyclists in Lycra speeding by. Young guys with their jeans low on their arses, their underpants on view, on skateboards or little scooters. 

An old lady in a jaunty straw hat, with a walking frame, a basket of groceries on the front. 

On the bench next to him, a gay couple, just two guys sitting with their arms around each other tenderly, talking quietly and laughing. 

An obvious civil servant in a pinstripe suit, walking briskly. The FT under his arm, phone against his ear. 

Two lovers, strolling, their hands clasped. Staring into each other's eyes longingly. Stopping to snog each other, before continuing on. 

Life. 

A microcosm. 

Live. 

That's what the doc said.

"Live, Mr Tucker."

Yes, fuck it......he would live. 

No matter what. He'd wasted too much time. 

Tomorrow was another day. 

oOo

Sam had been very quiet the last few days. 

Brooding.

Malcolm knew exactly why. 

He didn't mention anything specifically to her but was especially attentive at home. Doing little things for her. Letting her know he cared.  
Easing her work load at the office too, by bypassing her or delegating or simply doing the task himself. 

At night she clung to him as if she were afraid he'd suddenly be beamed away from her. 

oOo

 

The concourse at Heathrow seethed with people. 

Wheelie suitcases, children crying. People hugging. Tannoy announcements, in three languages. 

A cacophony of noise. 

In amongst this maelstrom, Malcolm led Sam by the hand. Trotting along in his wake. 

Scanning the sea of humanity, hunting for the correct check in desk. A familiar face. 

She spotted him first. 

"PAUL!" She cried. Dropping Malcolm's hand and running towards him. 

She launched herself. Arms around his neck. 

He held her close. Rocking her gently. 

"I didn't think you'd make it!" He chided softly.

"Hello Malcolm!" The two men shook hands firmly. 

"Fucking traffic was a nightmare. Two lanes closed. We had to turn off.....take the back roads!" He said apologetically. 

Sam's face was unstable. Barely holding it together. 

Malcolm knew. 

It was the hardest thing for her since losing her father. 

Having checked in his bags, they had half an hour before he needed to go through security and on to his departure gate. 

Precious little time. 

They went to grab a coffee. 

Sat together at the table. 

Somehow they didn't know what to say.

The silence between them palpable. 

But words weren't really necessary. 

What could they say anyway? 

Today was the day. He was leaving for good. 

From now on America would be his home. He would only come back occasionally for visits. 

Next year there would be a wedding, if all went to plan. 

Sam wanted more than anything for her dearest brother to be happy. But for herself she was utterly heartbroken. It was like losing a part of her.  
Her only surviving family. 

She was being strong. 

Malcolm knew that. 

A brave face. The bravest. 

Determined, as only Sam could be, once she set her mind to something. 

She would not cry. She would be merry and positive and hold it together. 

Small talk. 

That was all they managed really. The big things they really wanted to say to each other somehow didn't really need to be said. 

"Let me know when you get there. So I know you're okay." Sam said, pointlessly. 

"Of course! Silly. I'm not going to walk away and just forget you exist!" 

"I can't wait to meet Gretchen. I know I'll love her." 

The moment was here. 

They stood up, as one, shuffling nervously. 

Paul went in to hug Malcolm. Clapping him on the back and speaking into his ear.

"Look after my sister Malc.....please.....I'm counting on you.....she loves you so much...."

"I will, I promise. You have a great time out there. Be happy. It's what we both wish for you."

He smiled wistfully, and turned to Sam.

"Give us a big hug baby sis!" He held out his arms, his eyes glistening.

She stepped into them, and he pulled her close. Her head buried against his jacket. 

"I'm gonna miss you so much. Malc has promised me he'll take good care of you. And I believe him. You'll make it work you two.....I know it. There's something wonderful there....and it's very special. When you first told me about him.....I was petrified for you....I'll be honest....but once I met him, I knew. It was meant to be. You're good for each other.  
You fit somehow. It's right.  
All the rest is just bullshit. Listen to your heart. Not to other people. They don't know him, and they don't know you. Be happy. I know you will."

"I love you Paul. And thank you for everything you've sacrificed for me over the years, everything you've done, every time you've been there when I needed someone. And for helping me to be the person I knew I could be, after Dad died. I'll miss you too.....but we'll talk, and email and stuff....."

She stopped before she lost control. 

Holding it in by pure strength of will, as he gathered his hand luggage and walked away. 

Malcolm's arm slid around her back protectively. 

She waved, and blew kisses. Watching him disappear behind the screened off area which lead to the security and then on to the departure gates.

After he'd gone, she stood for a few more moments. 

Staring at the spot where he'd last been. 

"Well!" She whispered. "That's that." 

She turned, picking her way through the crowd. Not once looking back. 

They drove home almost in silence. 

A huge feeling of emptiness engulfed and overwhelmed her. 

Not once did she cry. 

Malcolm was concerned. Although he said nothing. He was sure eventually it would find a way to come out. 

Nothing happened until a week later. 

He came in to find her sobbing fit to break. 

.......Ramsey hadn't come home.


	11. Cat-a-tonic.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsey the cat has gone missing. 
> 
> Sam is distraught......Malcolm is too, but he hides it well....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CAT-A-TONIC. 

"He's never failed to come home Malc......never......something must have happened to him....." 

She was inconsolable. 

Out into the garden, they called and whistled. Not that Sam hadn't done that already, clinking a knife against his food bowl, calling his name. 

Nothing. 

"Stupid animal is probably shut in somewhere....." 

Malcolm took a torch and sallied forth down the street. 

Knocking on doors. 

"Hi! We live next door, and I wonder, have you seen our cat?......A large tabby tom.....he's gone missing, I wonder if you wouldn't mind checking your shed or garage, in case he's been shut in....." 

"Oh! Him! He's a naughty boy.....he comes through our cat flap and eats Binky's food......" 

................

"Hello. I'm Mr Tucker from number 12......our cat hasn't come home, and we were just wondering....." 

"Not the big tom? The one that sits on my wall yowling half the night......he had a real scrap the other day with another cat.....tearing seven bells out of each other they were. I threw a bucket of water over the pair of them to split them up......." 

It soon became apparent that Ramsey was not quite the quiet homely, 'not straying far' cat they'd thought him to be. 

Quite the opposite. 

The neighbour two doors down said she had to keep her cat in at night because of Ramsey's unwanted attentions. Others said the same. 

"But he's had his knackers done......" Malcolm protested. "He can't actually achieve anything....."

"Ah, but if he was neutered as an adult and not as a kitten, they sometimes retain the idea.....you know.....that they are......virile......" the old lady opposite told him, who came to her door when Malcolm rung her bell. 

"Christ! Really? But we didn't think he strayed far from our garden?" 

Sam and Malcolm returned home dejected, much surprised, and decidedly catless. 

"So.....it would seem that Ramsey is quite the local Lothario.......a cat with dubious morals." 

"Typical!" Malcolm huffed. "While you're crying your ruddy eyes out, he's probably off with one of his lady friends, out for a night of fucking and fighting......" 

"But I lock the cat flap......there's a flip peg so he can't get out.....he must have learned to open it......" Sam examined said door as if all would be revealed to her. 

"Same way he taught himself to open the bedroom door probably! Fucking hell, next time he's begging me for food, I'll boot him one......he damn well gets two or three dinners a day at various different houses.....crafty bugger." 

Sam made tea, and sat sipping it. 

It was midnight, and still no sign of the errant tom. 

"Oh Malc......I'm never going to get any sleep.....wherever can he be? I keep having visions of him lying somewhere, injured.....or that something awful has happened to him......" 

She started to sniffle again. 

"C'mere! Don't cry. He'll come home. And if he doesn't, we'll put some notices up tomorrow, round the nearby streets......he must be somewhere. He's chipped....someone will find him."

She cuddled up to him, still grizzling, as he held his arms out to her. 

Eventually they gave up and went to bed. 

oOo

It was Sam who was down first in the morning, after a broken night. 

The sight that met her eyes was like something out of her worst nightmare.

A trail of blood spots lead across the kitchen floor and under the table. 

There he lay. Fur matted and caked. 

Any injury was difficult to see, but there was clearly some damage, and one eye was swollen shut. 

She knelt down to coax him out, and was rewarded by a sharp hiss and her hand scratched for her trouble. 

"MALC! MALC! COME HERE.....QUICK!" 

Malcolm thundered down the stairs, tying on his dressing gown. 

He surveyed the carnage. 

"Fucking hell. He must have dragged himself home." He bent down to peer at the distressed mog. 

Sam was sucking the back of her hand. Almost in tears again. 

"Sam go and find the cat basket, and you'd better put some antiseptic on that scratch, Christ knows where he's been." 

Persuading the cornered animal to come out from under the table proved impossible. 

He was having none of it. 

Food and water, a saucer of milk, nothing worked.

Yet he mewed pitifully when they went anywhere near him. 

Malcolm went back upstairs and got dressed. Then found some old ski gloves he had in the back of the wardrobe.

He reentered the kitchen as if he were about to perform brain surgery. 

"Right! Ramsey....you've gotta come out from under there pal! And you've gotta take a trip to the V. E. T. !" 

Sam watched in trepidation as Malcolm crawled under the table with an old towel in his hands. 

Growls and snarls and spitting followed. 

Then plaintive mews, yowls, and a bump and curse as Malcolm hit his head on the underside of the table. 

The two finally emerged, Malcolm bruised but triumphant. 

Cradling the furry armful, swaddled. Just a head poking out, with only one eye, darting with evil intent from one to the other, fiercely wriggling and struggling, tail thrashing. 

But held firm. 

"He's gonna fucking hate me now!" Malcolm complained, as he bundled the protesting creature into the pet carrier and shut the barred door. 

Within half an hour they were at the Veterinary Surgery. 

In amongst the labradors, snappy terriers, rabbits and guinea pigs. 

Waiting their turn. 

"What have we here then?" The Vet peered through the bars and was rewarded with more hissing and spitting. 

"We don't know what's happened to him exactly. But he's hurt. He dragged himself home." 

The Vet frowned. Reaching for some reinforced suede mitts. 

".....and I'm afraid he's seriously pissed." Malcolm added helpfully. 

"You're telling me!" The practitioner laughed. "We might have to put him under, to examine him properly." 

Once out onto the examination couch, still wrapped in the towel, Ramsey continued to make a low throaty meow, hissing angrily from time to time. His claws anchored to the bed. 

One foreleg shaved, held down by an extremely competent nurse, a quick injection, and Ramsey slowly keeled over. 

"Right. Let's have a look at you!" 

Combing through the matted fur. 

"Looks like he's been in a bad fight, rather than an RTA or something of that nature. He's going to be extremely sore, and very sorry for himself for a few days. But we'll patch him up and he'll be good as new. I'll give you some antibiotics for him too.....teeth marks can become infected." 

oOo

Malcolm let himself in through the front door. Pet carrier in hand. 

Sam following with a bag of medicines, dressings and eye ointment. 

"We're gonna have fun and games administering this lot.....you realise that don't you?" He said, turning to her. 

Setting the carrier down on the floor, he unfastened the door and walked away. 

"Leave him be. Let him find his own way out. I'll offer him some food later. If he can manage to eat anything, whilst wearing the cone of shame!" 

"Well, it's tough! He has to keep it on to stop him biting his stitches!" Sam said, watching the feline creep out of the box, the contraption round his neck resembling a lamp shade, his tail limp and his ears flat against his head. Looking extremely sorry for himself. 

Malcolm plonked himself down on the sofa. 

"Told you a kid would have been easier!" He puffed as Sam squashed down next to him. 

"Bloody animal!" 

"You love him really. You were as upset as I was when he didn't come home!" She smiled. 

"Whatever!" He scowled. 

"I'm starving.....I haven't had any breakfast......damn cat has taken up most of my Saturday morning." 

A little mew and a chirrup, alerted him to a furry presence. 

"Hello.....so you've decided you don't hate me after all, have you?" He leaned forwards to look at the sorry scrap that sat at his feet. 

Unable to jump up onto his lap, Malcolm bent down and carefully scooped him up. 

Immediately the cat curled himself into a ball, purring loudly and went to sleep. 

"Well, it would appear you are still flavour of the month, in spite of everything." Sam laughed. 

"Sit still, Malcolm, I'll go and make us some coffee and a bacon sarnie!"


	12. Wee, Sleekit, Cowrin', Tim'rous Beastie.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm and Sam receive an invitation.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a request from @mywhaticallablog in conversation with @lavalampington and who am I to resist such requests? 
> 
> The title is the opening line of Burns poem, 'To A Mouse'. 
> 
> The fact that we were denied the sight of Malcolm in a kilt is a travesty....but one which I can happily rectify!
> 
> Malcolm is wearing the full regalia. Prince Charlie style. A sgain dubh is the small knife or dirk worn tucked into the sock. 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> I give the traditional version of the Burns Night Poem, and the Selkirk Grace. 
> 
> Neeps and tatties are mashed swede and potato. 
> 
> The White Heather Club was a folk programme popular in the sixties, with Robin Hall and Jimmie McGregor who were famous at the time, guests often included Andy Stewart and Moira Anderson. 
> 
> The Gay Gordon's is a traditional dance and nothing to do with sexuality!!

WEE, SLEEKIT, COW'RIN, TIM'ROUS BEASTIE."

 

Malcolm padded down the hallway. 

Dressing gown, bare feet. Scratching his head and yawning.

Crunching on a triangle of toast as he walked.

Ramsey the cat, now recovered and cone free, sidling along at his heels, tail in the air. 

Bending, he collected the post and the newspaper from the doormat and wandered back to the kitchen, toast now held between his teeth as he required both hands to sort the letters. 

"Anything exciting?" Sam looked up from her coffee. 

She was sitting at the counter, also in her robe, her hair wrapped in a towel, turban stylee.  
But for the want of fruit, Malcolm thought she looked like Carmen Miranda. 

"Nah! A load of bank statements, bills and.......hello.......what's this?" 

A large very high quality watermarked envelope. Flowing copperplate script, in black ink.....proper ink.....the type you dip your Smythson fountain pen into. 

"What the fuck....?" 

He passed it to Sam to peruse. 

"Open it.....it's addressed to both of us......" He remarked. 

It was.......

_"Mr. M Tucker esq. & Miss S Cassidy."_

"Esquire? Who the heck writes that these days?" She asked, as she slid a knife point under the seal. 

"Only one person I can think of.....and I can't think why he'd be writing to me....." 

Sam drew out an invitation. 

Ivory embossed. With a scrolled gold edging. 

Written in the same hand as the envelope, but this time in gold ink to match the border.

"Lord Julius Nicholson requests the pleasure......." She read aloud. 

"Fuck me! I've hardly heard from that cunt since the debacle with Fleming....that's over a year now.....what the fuck are we invited to......?" 

".....for a Burn's Night celebration. January 25th........" She continued. 

"Burn's Night is it? You're fucking kidding me! Lord Nicholson is about as Scots as Saki.......or bratwurst.......!"

"Apparently not......." Sam passed him the invitation. "Look at the family crest at the top....."

"McNicholson?" Malcolm began to laugh out loud. "What a load of fucking wank!" 

"Read the rest......" Sam now had a delicious smirk on her face, as she passed the invite back to him.

"An evening of traditional fayre and entertainment. Dress code.......traditional for men, evening wear for ladies.......traditional? Oh......you have GOT to be frigging joking......." 

"I think Lord 'McNicholson' wants to see you in a kilt, Malcolm......." Suppressing her laughter was proving nigh on impossible for Sam. 

".......from 7.30pm. Carriages at Midnight." She concluded.

Malcolm was about to explode with a flurry of swearwords when the phone rang. 

It was Jamie. 

"Please tell me you've received a fucking toff ponce invitation......" Was his opening line. 

"......what the fuck is he playing at? And why does he want us there? To add authenticity to the proceedings?" He continued.

"Well, he can whistle out of his arse, because there's no way on God's earth that I am going anywhere in a KILT!" Malcolm responded. "Least of all to Lord Nicholson of Arnage's gaff! I wouldn't give the bastard the satisfaction of ogling my knees!" 

"It's in his posh place in Richmond though, Malcolm.......could be a fucking hoot......I wonder who else will be there?" Jamie had to admit to being curious. 

"A load of fucking hoity toity dandy fops......that's who.......I'm not fucking going! Absolutely no way!"..............

oOo

...............Samantha Cassidy emerged from the bathroom, her black full length satin dress, hugging her curves beautifully. Set off with a tartan sash, fastened at the shoulder with a thistle broach which had once belonged to Malcolm's mother. 

She observed her man, head cocked to one side, a ridiculous beaming smile on her face. 

Malcolm Tucker. 

Resplendent. 

Fastening his tie in front of the full length mirror. 

Her eyes swept from floor to head, taking him in.  
On his feet he wore polished black ghillie brogues, laced up to mid shin.  
Knitted hose in Lovat green, with contrasting blue kilt flashes at the tops and a sgian dubh pushed down the side of the right leg. 

His kilt of lichen, blue, lovat green with a hint of black, came to the knee, the same plaid as Sam's sash, a dagger kilt pin and three tasselled pony skin dress sporran hanging at the front. Around his waist a leather belt with a pewter fastening in a Celtic design.

Last but not least, a Prince Charlie low cut black jacket and matching waistcoat with pewter buttons adorning the front and sleeves, worn over a crisp white wing collar shirt and black bow tie. His cuff links, his favourites, were a present from Sam, just visible below the jacket sleeve. 

"OH! MY! GOD!" She exclaimed, moving closer. 

"You look..........Jesus........Malcolm.........." 

He turned to her with a scowl.

"WHAT?" He barked crossly. 

"Oh my lord.....! How am I supposed to keep my hands off you all evening looking like that?"

She was suddenly flushed with excitement. 

"JUST LOOK AT YOU!" She breathed. 

Stepping within reach, she bent slightly and slid her hand up the inside of his bare thigh. 

"HEY!" He squeaked, jumping back, as she connected with his exposed manhood. 

"Oh FUCK!" She cried out with glee.  
"This is a major, MAJOR turn on.......Malcolm.....seriously......I've got to stand next to you, dance with you, chat normally.....all the time knowing you've got nothing on under this thing.....it's going to be EXTREMELY distracting." 

As she spoke she fondled him wantonly. 

He batted at her hands, folding himself in the middle and backing away to prevent her touching him further, lest he should become aroused. 

"SAM! For fucks sake......" He scolded.

"But Malc.....no boxers.....those gorgeous bare thighs of yours......cute little naked buns......all your.......your.......unfettered.......di.....tackle.......how am I supposed to focus? It's SOOO SEXY!" 

His eyebrows disappeared practically into his hairline. 

"Really?" He said, in disbelief. 

"HELL YEAH! Really, really." She whispered, coming close to him again, squeezing his bum cheeks through the woollen kilt material, as she kissed him on the mouth. 

"You're a filthy minx! And you're fucking depraved!" He responded, eyelids now heavy with desire.....being felt up was clearly getting to him! 

"Aren't YOU the lucky one!" She replied with a wicked wink. 

oOo

As predicted, the great and the good were there. 

Gentry, Peers, ministers and civil servants. Julius' sister and her husband with his nephew, home from Charterhouse, where, he once informed Malcolm, he was a dayboy not a boarder. 

Standing around in small knots, chatting and laughing like horses. 

Jamie McDonald, also suitably decked out in full regalia, sporting the McDonald tartan, naturally, stood with his arm through that of Laura, his girlfriend, who, as a Fraser, hailing originally from Inverness, also wore the plaid in her own right.  
Her gown was ankle length, and of Dress Yellow. Her hair piled up on top of her head. 

Most male guests were wearing kilts, although some, Julius included, wore tartan trews. 

Malcolm didn't think he'd ever seen the peer looking more gay. 

He refrained from comment however. Scanning the room about him, cradling a glass of champagne. Sam close by his elbow. Her eyes out on organ stops, taking in the company, the furnishings, the whole shebang.

A traditional band was playing, fiddles, accordion, chanter, .....it was like an episode of _'The White Heather Club'_. All they needed was Andy Stewart, singing _'Donald Where's Your Trewsers?'_

Lord Nicholson came over to greet them, his hand held out for Malcolm to shake. 

"So glad you could make it Malcolm.....and looking quite spectacular if I may say so!" 

Malcolm ignored the compliment.

"So what's all this 'McNicholson' malarkey, you're more English than pork pie?" 

Julius smiled, a simpering apologetic smile. 

"Well, actually not! You may think that, but it may surprise you to know, my family is Scots from way back, only anglicised the name at the end of the 19th century." 

"So what were you? Laird of the fucking Isles?" Jamie butted in. 

"Related to the Earl of Perth actually, from Stobhall. Formerly of Drummond Castle. Lovely area, Perthshire. The River Tay. I go up there for the salmon fishing"

Jamie almost choked on his drink. 

Undaunted Nicholson continued.....

"Tucker isn't a particularly Scottish name, now I come to think about it.....do you have your own tartan or is this just a generic one?" He enquired, looking down at Malcolm's kilt, his face ever so slightly amused. 

"We don't have our own tartan. I'm wearing Ancient Campbell. My mother's family name." He replied curtly.  
"The Tucker name in my family comes from Ireland, O'Tuachair........it's Gaelic.  
It means 'son of the brave one'. My Da's family came from Munster way back. I think we anglicised it soon after Culloden." 

Now it was Sam's turn to stifle a giggle, turning away to hide her face. 

Malcolm was playing with him mercilessly, it was almost a lamb to the slaughter. 

"Ah. How terribly interesting!" He replied. "Well, if you'll excuse me I must run away and mingle. Have fun!" 

"Fucking arsehat!" Jamie hissed. 

Smart waitresses circulated with trays of hors d'oeurves. 

"What the f........what are these delicious looking morsels?" Malcolm enquired. 

The girl pointed to various things.

"We have quail's eggs stuffed with caviar, smoked salmon blinis, foie gras on bruschetta and crayfish vol-au-vents." She replied. 

"I'll give it a miss thanks.....wouldn't want to spoil my appetite......" 

The girl moved away with a smile. 

"Even the fucking nibbles are poncy!" Jamie moaned. "Nothing remotely edible, have they not heard of Cheesy Wotsits? I hope the dinner is better!" 

oOo

Just as Malcolm's stomach was beginning to complain, a gong sounded, and Lord Arnage came to the now open double doors, which led through to the dining room. 

He coughed dramatically, then paused for effect, as the music and the hum of chatter died away. 

"If I could ask you all to take your partner's, and form a line. DINNER IS SERVED!" He cried, and clapping his hands together a skirl of the bagpipes began, as the diners assembled and were ushered in.  
The piper leading the way, dressed in the full monty, complete with a pheasant feathered bonnet. 

The room was set with a long rectangular table. 

Magnificent. Opulent. 

Sam gasped at the sight. 

"Wow!" She whispered, leaning in to Malcolm. "Certainly knows how to put on a display!" 

"Pretentious git!" Malcolm retorted.

Once everyone was seated, with Lord Nicholson at the head of the table, he motioned to Jamie, who looked confused.

"Perhaps you could do the honours with the Selkirk Grace?" He asked, bowing slightly, presumably thinking to wrong foot the unsuspecting Scotsman. 

Clearing his throat, McDonald stood up. 

"Aye. Well.....I'm a wee bit rusty......but here goes......."

 _"Some hae meat an_  
_canna eat,_  
_And some wad eat that want it;_  
_But we hae meat, and we can eat,_  
_And sae let the Lord be thankit."_

The assembly chorused "Amen." Malcolm tipped his friend a wink. 

Thunderous applause rang around the table, as steaming tureens of cock-a-leekie soup were bought in, along with baskets of warm Scottish soda bread. 

Sam sniffed the bowl appreciatively.

"This didn't come out of a tin!" She murmured, as everyone set to and tucked in. 

Malcolm was seated with Sam to his left, another lady on his right, whom he vaguely recognised as formerly working at Number Ten. 

He was making small talk, engaged in a conversation about the why's and wherefore's of nothing in particular, when he felt the stroke of small fingers moving up his inner thigh.  
Turning to Sam, he gave her a very hard stare, to which she smiled sweetly, holding eye contact as she began to gently travel higher.

The table cloth covered his lower half, so no one could see what was happening, but Malcolm was having great difficulty keeping his voice level, as the woman prattled on. 

Unable to endure it any longer, and feeling himself getting hard, he wiped his mouth delicately with his napkin, and made to rise.

"If you'll excuse me, I must pop to the little boy's room before the main event." He said, apologetically. Casting a dark look in Sam's direction, he left the table discreetly. 

From the gents, he sent her a what's app. 

_"What the fuck are you playing at? Trying to give me a boner at Julius' swanky dinner! I'm so getting my revenge later! M xxx"_

_"Sorry. Not sorry. S xxxx"_

oOo

By the time Malcolm returned to the table the plates had been cleared, and the piper struck up again. 

Everyone rose to their feet and thumped the table in time to the tune of _"The Star O' Robbie Burns"._

In came the haggis. 

Or rather haggis in the plural, as there were several.

On silver salvers. Held aloft.

The pipes ceased with a final asthmatic wheeze, and the _'Address to the Haggis'_ began. 

_Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,_  
_Great chieftain o' the pudding-race!_  
_Aboon them a' yet tak your place,_  
_Painch, tripe, or thairm:_  
_Weel are ye wordy o'a grace_  
_As lang's my arm._

 _The groaning trencher there ye fill,_  
_Your hurdies like a distant hill,_  
_Your pin was help to mend a mill_  
_In time o'need,_  
_While thro' your pores the dews distil_  
_Like amber bead._

 _His knife see rustic Labour dight,_ "

Here the piper drew his sgain dubh from the leg of his hose and brandished it with a flourish.  
Malcolm happened to glance at Sam, standing at his side.  
She was mesmerised, hands clasped to her chest, eyes glistening with excitement. He was surprised, she was thoroughly enjoying this staged spectacle.  
Malcolm found himself smiling. 

_"An' cut you up wi' ready sleight, "_

 

The dagger was plunged into the haggis and it split from end to end, the contents spilling out, the company giving a little gasp and breaking into spontaneous applause. 

_"Trenching your gushing entrails bright,_  
_Like ony ditch;_  
_And then, O what a glorious sight,_  
_Warm-reekin', rich!_

 _Then, horn for horn, they stretch an' strive:_  
_Deil tak the hindmost! on they drive,_  
_Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve_  
_Are bent like drums;_  
_Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,_  
_Bethankit! hums._

 _Is there that owre his French ragout_  
_Or olio that wad staw a sow,_  
_Or fricassee wad make her spew_  
_Wi' perfect sconner,_  
_Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view_  
_On sic a dinner?_

 _Poor devil! see him owre his trash,_  
_As feckles as wither'd rash,_  
_His spindle shank, a guid whip-lash;_  
_His nieve a nit;_  
_Thro' blody flood or field to dash,_  
_O how unfit!_

 _But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,_  
_The trembling earth resounds his tread._  
_Clap in his walie nieve a blade,_  
_He'll mak it whissle;_  
_An' legs an' arms, an' hands will sned,_  
_Like taps o' trissle._

 _Ye Pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care,_  
_And dish them out their bill o' fare,_  
_Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware_  
_That jaups in luggies;_  
_But, if ye wish her gratefu' prayer_  
_Gie her a haggis!"_

Everyone cheered heartily and a toast to the haggis was made in malt whiskey, before they all resumed their seats and the servers began to distribute their plates.

Creamy mashed tatties and a blob of 'neeps' were added, plus thick brown gravy if required.  
All that could be heard was the clink of cutlery and hums of approval. 

Sam had never eaten haggis before in her life, and after Malcolm told her what was in it, she wasn't sure if she wanted to......to her amazement however, she found it was actually delicious. 

The meal was finished with a Scotch whiskey trifle, extremely boozy, followed by various cheeses with apples and oat cakes. 

As coffee was served, Julius rose and held his hands aloft for some hush. 

"I want to thank you all for coming. So lovely to see some old familiar faces, as well as the usual suspects!" 

Muted laughter. 

"As is customary at these gatherings.....I shall now propose a toast to the immortal memory of Robert Burns!" 

He held his glass in the air. 

"ROBERT BURNS!" They chorused. 

"And now......an 'address to the lassies'!" 

Malcolm leaned into Sam's ear.

"He's hardly fucking qualified....." He whispered. She nudged him in the ribs in response and giggled. 

"What can I say about the fairer sex......." he began.

"Not a lot you prick, since the only women you know intimately are your mother and your sister......" 

Malcolm hissed under his breath. 

Sam kicked his shin under the table.

Afterwards Julius' sister, Camilla, who closely resembled him, just with more hair, stood to give the reply.

"'An address to the laddies'!" she announced. 

"Men.......don't we just love them.......? They certainly have their uses, where would we be without them......."

An arm was insinuated through Malcolm's at the elbow, and Sam smiled up at him, making his heart miss a beat.  
Fuck, how did she always do that to him? Wrapped around her little finger.....that's what he was......

Camilla closed with a vote of thanks to her brother for his hospitality and gradually the table emptied as the guests filtered through to the largest room in the house, which had been cleared for dancing. 

Even Malcolm found his toes tapping, as the partners swirled around the floor.  
Sam danced the _'Gay Gordons'_ with Jamie, who seemed to know the steps well, although she didn't, but soon got the hang of it. Jamie talked her through it.

"Side by side, one hand in front holds mine, the other holds up by your shoulder. Ready?......  
Forward, two, three, four, reverse two, three, four.......and repeat again. Turning under my right arm two, three, four, then come together and dance around. That's it......then repeat the whole thing......got it?" 

"I've got it......forward two, three, four......." 

Laura came to stand at Malcolm's elbow, passing him a glass of malt. 

"She's lovely, your Sam." She observed, watching the flushed and smiling face as his lover turned under Jamie's arm. 

"Not my Sam really......She doesn't 'belong' to me.......far from it. I think it's more the other way round!" He replied wistfully. 

"Nonsense. You belong to each other. She's a dear person, and completely besotted with you!" Laura answered honestly. 

"Well, I wish you'd tell her that......that she's a dear I mean......because her self confidence has taken a nose dive since her friend's all fucked her over.......and she's struggling....can't say I blame her either.......it's hard to hear nasty shit about yourself, or someone you love, especially if it isn't true.....it'd be good for her to hear you say that......as for the rest......well, the feeling's mutual. What about you and Jamie......that seems to be going well......?" 

"Aye. It is......much to my surprise......he's a bit of an unknown quantity, is Jamie.....once you get passed all the mouth and posturing, he's a really nice guy." 

"He is that. A dark horse! Best and most loyal friend I've ever had, that's for sure. Only friend for that matter."

"I know it, Malcolm. He talks about you all the time, and it warms my heart. He thinks the world of you, you know. He sees you as a brother. He loves and admires you deeply."

Malcolm didn't reply, but his eyes were shining. 

"He hasn't told me much about what happened to you......he says it should come from you not him.......unless you say otherwise......." She ventured, thoughtfully, staring straight towards the dance floor and sipping her drink. 

Taking a swig himself, Malcolm swallowed. 

"He can tell you it all......I don't give a fuck......only Sam and he know all the gory details......and my therapist of course! It's out there now Laura.....it can't hurt me anymore." 

"Thank you." She replied, earnestly. 

He turned to look at her. 

"What for?" He asked. 

"For trusting me enough to let Jamie pass on the information. I purposely haven't read any of the press articles and stuff, I didn't want to, I was waiting until you felt it was okay for me to know." 

"You're a good lass." He observed. "Jamie is a lucky man, but I think he knows that....." 

He broke off suddenly and snapped back from his distant thoughts. 

"Here she comes!" He held out his arms to a breathless Sam. "Was that good?" 

"Brilliant!" She beamed, placing her arm through his. 

Laura hugged Jamie close. 

"You're all sweaty!" She smiled. 

Jamie planted a kiss on her lips. 

"Let's go find a dram.....I'm dry as a chip!" He breathed. 

The music slowed down. 

"Dance with me Malcolm." Sam tugged his hand. They moved onto the floor together. Sam could see Julius, away to one side, watching them with keen interest. 

She held him very close, her head against his jacket. 

"You look SO frickin' handsome." She whispered, looking up at him. "When we get home......I really think you should keep the kilt on........" 

"Sam, shut the fuck up, for Christ's sake!" He hissed. "If you had any idea what's going on under this thing.....you'd keep quiet!" 

She giggled. 

"I don't have to imagine......I know that's not your sporran!" 

The tune ended and he kissed her. 

"Fucking love you!" He said, into her ear. "And my mam would be so chuffed to see her broach on your shoulder......I really wish she could." 

His face suddenly clouded and he seemed to visibly deflate. 

"Perhaps she can Malc. Perhaps she can. She'd be pleased to see you tonight too. Us....so happy.......I love you too.....so very much." 

At that second midnight chimes rang out, shattering the moment. 

They all gathered in a circle and launched into a chorus of 'Auld Lang Syne', as the evening drew to a close. 

oOo

Sam lay next to Malcolm, on top of the covers, breathing heavily. 

He, on his back, arms up, hands behind his head, also panting, divested of all his fine regalia apart from the kilt, which she insisted he retain.

"Bloody hell Malc......I was gagging for you all evening. We are SO doing that again....."

"Not tonight we're fucking not.....there's no way I can repeat that......fuck me.....I'm done for!" 

"I didn't mean tonight, silly, I meant some other time......." 

She turned on her side, facing him, stroking a hand across his bare chest. 

"I see.....so whenever it takes your fancy.....I have to get dressed up for you......is it? Like fucking Braveheart.......I tell you......you are fucking kinky........I swear to god......" 

She laughed, then whispered, in her most naughty playful voice, which never failed to get him going.....

"You love it! I bet if I warmed you up playing with your nipples, wearing nothing but your kilt, then sat astride you and fucked you into oblivion, you'd like that just as much as me......" 

"No! I wouldn't! It's too fucking scratchy! My knees are red raw......" He moaned pathetically, as his breath returned slowly to normal. 

"I remember, the first weekend we spent together....." She purred, her tone silken. ".......you discovered just how much you enjoyed me touching your tender little nubs......" She leaned over him, licking him there with the just the tip of her tongue.

"Arghh! Fucking hell Sam." He gasped, his breathing becoming erratic again. "Stop for fucks sake.....I can't.......not again........" His hips were already lifting from the bed in response to the stimulation. 

"It's not kinky.....or depraved.....it's sexy.......you're sexy.......you turn me on.......SO MUCH......I can't help it if you're a hot Scot.......can I? How's a girl to resist.......?" 

As she spoke she hitched up the plaid material, sliding her hand up beneath it, along the ultra sensitive inside of his thigh, fondling him, whilst moving so that her legs were either side of his body. 

"Oh......fucckkk!" He groaned. "Saammm! Have mercy........" 

But, in spite of his protestations, he was already responding to her touch, fingers clasped tight around the bars of the bedstead behind his head. 

She teased him until he begged her to lower herself down onto him. He'd quickly found she seemed to enjoy that.......him being a little bit wanting, a little bit desperate, and out of his mind aroused.......all because of his need for her. It was a powerful stimulant.  
If it was true that he turned her on, it worked doubly well the other way around.......because Malcolm loved to hear her talk to him, in her most alluring voice, telling him what she'd like to do with him, or to him.........shit, she messed with his fucking head! 

He was becoming incoherent with desire. 

"Please Sam......I need........please.......fuck, you've done it to me again.....you make me want you so bad.....please......just let me......"

When their bodies connected he let out a tiny whimper, pulling her down over his torso, as she took him deep. Angling himself to let her feel all of him. 

"Malcolm!" She managed to choke out. "Christ!......come for me......I'm going to......really quick.....it's......I'm so close........" 

She peaked with a cry, and he almost immediately began to pulse inside her, kissing her and fucking her mouth with his tongue as his cock pumped. 

"Happy fucking Rabbie Burns Night......!" He whispered, as he turned her over, onto her back, not breaking their link, his kiss continuing, but now more gentle and tender.  
She was limp beneath him, allowing him to do whatever he would. 

When he finally released his hold on her, she was looking up at him, her expression dreamy, blissful, her lips full, mouth glistening and slightly open, panting from the exertion, and his heart leapt inside his chest at the sight of her.

"You're so fucking beautiful......." He whispered, leaning in to peck her lips again.

"Best night ever." She said softly. "Fuck it, Malcolm! But I love you so much! Like I say, we are SO doing this again!"


	13. Best Mates.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Malcolm are meeting up.
> 
> Laura and Sam are going shopping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of background in this chapter.......Malcolm and Jamie's relationship.....
> 
> Malcolm would hate the word 'bromance' but they love each other.  
> It's a level of intimacy which is quite rare for two heterosexual men. Soldiers at war experience it, a bond of brotherhood, where one would lay down their life for another, or even members of the same sports team.  
> I don't nor have I ever imagined Malcolm (or Jamie) as being gay.  
> And before anyone throws a wobbly..... I'm quite happy to read stories about them as a couple, I just don't see them as that myself. It's as simple as that. A matter of preference. 
> 
> Laura and Sam.....newly found friendship.....but one that's going to be deep and lasting. 
> 
> Sam tells Laura a little of how she fell for Malcolm. In which there is a flower reference. It is taken from my prompt one shot story 'The Floral Tribute' which is before Malcolm and Sam are an item.
> 
> There are several references to Shitstorm in this chapter.

BEST MATES.

Sliding down into the pool, Malcolm sucked in his abs as the chill hit his midriff. 

Always that first moment, a hiss of expectation as the water lapped around his navel. 

Pulling his goggles down and pushing them firmly into his eye sockets, he launched himself forwards. 

There was something about this half hour in his day. 

Initially it began as a welcome stress releasing safety valve prior to his therapy sessions. Now it was a way of life.  
At least three times a week, he swam.  
The baths practically empty this early in the morning. 

Ploughing up and down, tumble turn at each end. He'd manage fifty lengths, maybe more, he would leave the pool invigorated. 

Somehow using the exercise bike didn't give him the same buzz, it was more of a chore. Malcolm wasn't a Lycra man......nope.....no way. 

He never saw himself as being particularly athletic. Hated sport, but he found that this form of physical activity made him feel great. 

Since being with Sam, Malcolm was leaner and fitter than he'd been since his twenties.

A combination of regular meals, sufficient sleep and the discipline of a workout, keeping him in fine fettle.

The peak of condition. The proverbial butcher's dog. 

If he had any tendency to run to fat at all, it was mainly focused around his middle, the old adage of _'belly's gonna getcha'_ wasn't wasted on him, he was determined not to succumb to the horrors of the dreaded 'dad tum'. 

Needed to look after himself.......for her, he decided. Take more care of his health......maintain a good state of preservation!

Sam had never once mentioned anything to him about this, but he was painfully aware that being with a much younger and nubile woman required a certain amount of stamina.....it was a matter of some importance to him that he remained potent......strong......virile.  
So that she would continue to want him......love him.....stay with him. 

Not that any of this mattered to her one jot. She loved him. End of story. If he was a dribbling invalid she'd still love him, but he wasn't sure of that in his own mind, such was his insecurity, he felt a constant need prove himself. 

It wasn't just his prowess, his ability to stay the distance, it was about being an alpha male. 

Something that Malcolm just was, without really trying. 

Inner strength, courage. 

Possessing in spades the qualities he felt were most important in a man, particularly where the woman he loved was concerned.

Dignity, respect, honour. 

Fuck it all, he wasn't ready for the scrap heap just yet, cunts like Reeder had a hell of a lot to learn.  
He could still show them a thing or two about leadership, passion, hard graft.

People like Ollie were insipid. Colourless clingers on. No balls. Basking in reflected glory. 

The experiences that had so clouded his life were all part of the rich tapestry he could draw upon, they moulded and shaped him, made him into the man he was.....  
Still here, still fighting, doing what the 'doc' told him.......living. 

Towelling himself off vigorously, his body tingling and euphoric. Swimming did that to him. 

Vital, powerful. Energised. Blood pumping, heart racing. Adrenaline fuelled. 

Normally he would go home, take his beautiful and very willing partner to bed, give her a damn good seeing to......but not today!

Today he was meeting Jamie. 

Sam was not at home, she'd gone on a shopping trip to Bluewater with Laura. 

 

oOo

 

Malcolm parked the car in the multi-storey and walked briskly through to the high street. 

There was his erstwhile compadre, seated in the window of the coffee shop, engrossed in the newspaper. 

His face visibly brightened as he saw Malcolm come through the door. Like an eager puppy. 

"Wotcha!" He smiled, and rose to clap his friend into a tight man hug. 

"You're early!" Malcolm took a seat, as the waitress came over. 

"I'll have a decaf cappuccino please love." He said, looking up. 

"Anything to eat?" She asked, scribbling on her pad. 

Malcolm considered. 

"Dunno......you had brekko Jamie?" 

"Nope......was waiting for ye......" 

"Ah....okay, I'll have bacon and scrambled egg then, and a bit of brown toast. Thanks." 

"I'll have the same......" Jamie grinned. "Frickin' starving......" 

They settled back, comfortably, opposite each other. A gang of two. A very small wolf pack! 

"So the girls have gone to Bluewater?" Jamie took a swig from his mug. 

"Yeah. That'll be a fucking pain in the wallet." 

Jamie laughed. 

"Laura's looking to get her entire Spring wardrobe!" 

"Fuck me! I gave Sam my Amex.......no doubt it'll be hammered........!"

"........you two seem great......it's almost a year now......" The waitress returned with Malcolm's coffee. Placing it down in front of him. 

He gave her a little smile of acknowledgment and continued. 

"So pleased for you mate......she's a good lass." 

"I told her about you......you know.......stuff......she said you'd said it was okay?" 

"Yeah. We spoke at Julius' bash. Told her.....don't give a fuck anymore. It's all good. What'd she say?" 

"She cried pal. Sobbed her heart out for half an hour." 

"Fuck me! Really?" 

"Yeah. Glad she knows though, makes things easier. I don't like secrets from her, or lying. Gotta start as I mean to go on with this one Malc......this is the real McCoy......she's a keeper.  
I wanna ask her to marry me......do you think I'm nuts?" 

"Fuck.....no! When?" 

"Dunno......sometime in the not too distant.....I guess......trying to pluck up the courage. Shit scared. Wanted to talk to you about it first." 

"Me? Why me? What does it matter what I think?" 

"Of course it matters what you think! I look to you Malc.....you know that. Like you were my brother......your opinion means a lot. I wanna know if you think it's okay."

"Fuck me! Jamie. What if I said I hated her guts.....or you shouldn't do it? Or I told you to jump under a bus? I'm not your Da.......or your fucking guru.......my opinion isn't worth shit!"

Jamie looked crestfallen.

"Tis to me!" 

"Mate, you don't need my approval! You go with your heart. You love her......so marry her. It's doesn't matter a fiddlers fuck what I think!" 

"Don't you think I should then? It's a mistake? Too early maybe?" 

"Jamie! I think she's fantastic. I think she loves you like bloody hell. I think it'll be the best thing you ever did. So go for it. There! That comprehensive enough for ye......?" 

McDonald breathed a sigh of relief. 

"Thanks Malc. Means a lot. Love you man......" His hand squeezed Malcolm's arm. 

Malcolm blushed furiously at his friend's open display of affection. 

"Stupid fucker!" 

Jamie had always been the more demonstrative of the two, Malcolm had once briefly wondered if his friend was gay or, at the very least, bi.....but no, he clearly wasn't, it was just that he was open with showing his emotions, more at ease with himself, and not so uncomfortable with physical intimacy between two heterosexual men as perhaps Malcolm was, for obvious reasons bearing in mind his past history.  
The first thing he did the day he learned Malcolm's terrible secret, the day Angela Heaney shared her findings with them, was to hold his friend close. Comforting him, as he often had when they were children. Malcolm welcomed it, surrendered to it, accepted it.  
It was a profound moment. 

"If she says yes.......IF........will you stand at my side mate? Please?" 

"'Course I fucking will! You sentimental tosser! I'll do the speech, the whole cahooney......you try and stop me!" 

Jamie puffed a relieved sigh. 

Ever since his falling out with Malcolm over his leak of Tom's medical history, Jamie had come to value his older fellow countryman more and more. The fact that Malcolm even deigned to take him back into his life after such a perceived betrayal, was momentous.  
On the day of the hostage crisis, Jamie was only too glad to step up to the plate. It was pay back time, and he didn't let his old friend down.  
Being able to help on that day at DoSAC, effectively liaising, picking up on Malcolm's code words, had probably saved lives.  
It prompted the much desired reconciliation. 

Jamie had been devastated at the loss of his mentor's companionship after so many years.  
His mistaken reading of the situation with Tom had been a source of great distress to him. At the time both he and Malcolm considered their partnership over. Things between them would never be the same again. 

Which made it doubly meaningful to him now. 

He wasn't sure that Malcolm really quite understood the esteem in which he held his dearest and oldest friend. Malcolm's approval in all things was very important to him, the bond between the two men was deep, it was not a sexual love, but it was a close, emotionally intense relationship. Particularly in the light of Malcolm's most recent revelations about his childhood.

To all intents and purposes, it was a 'bromance'. Although Malcolm would spit out his coffee in disgust at the use of that word. 

Their breakfasts arrived, and the pair set to with gusto, chatting animatedly about it all in between mouthfuls. 

oOo

Meanwhile, down in darkest Kent.......

.........Laura emerged from the changing room. 

Sam regarded her critically. Head on one side.

"It's a bit loose........what size is it?" 

"A 12." 

"Hang in there a sec, I'll run and fetch you a 10........" 

Moments later......

"Well?" 

"Much better! Looks great on you....I like the colour." 

"Thank Christ for that! Yay! Purchase number one successfully completed!" 

The two women walked along through the Mall, their arms linked at the elbow. 

Chatting about normal girlie things, like Tom Hiddleston's eyes.....and his perfectly formed arse. Whether there existed in the universe a pair of shoes to go with the dress she'd just bought.  
Why they always seemed to be between two sizes in women's clothing, no matter which shop they went to.  
If she went for an extra long run tomorrow, could she justify having a dirty great wedge of cheesecake at lunch?  
The relative merits of Benefit makeup compared to Max Factor.  
Who was on the cover of 'Hello' magazine and how much they'd been paid for the 'exclusive' schmaltzy pictures.  
Should they get their nails done? 

It was a long time since Sam had done anything like this. 

The fripperies, the daft, unimportant things that were, nevertheless, good fun.....and a welcome break from being sensible and intelligent and a grown up.

She suddenly felt inexplicably happy, and rather emotional. 

"This is great......" She breathed. "Thanks for suggesting we do this Laura......I really appreciate it!" 

Laura Fraser liked Sam Cassidy. 

Had done from the first time they'd met. 

They were roughly the same age. 

Professional women. Graduates. A great deal in common. 

They were going to become best friends, she could just feel it. 

At first Sam was trying too hard, and Laura knew why. She'd been deeply hurt by her so called girlfriends, their reaction to Malcolm had floored her.  
The rejection ate away at her self confidence. 

Sam was not a particularly confrontational person. She was kind, generous and thoughtful, and most certainly did not deserve to be treated thus.  
As far as Laura was concerned those people were beneath contempt. 

It didn't take long for Sam to relax in her company. Be herself again. Drop any pretence she may have been exhibiting. 

Now they were good mates. Met up from time to time. Went out together for a drink after work, or to the cinema, or, like now, on a shopping spree. 

It was good. 

Malcolm was chuffed to bits for her. Making new friends in the light of losing old ones wasn't easy. 

He didn't want to be the only thing in her life, nor did he want them to become an insular couple, wholly reliant on each other for company. 

"So.....you have to tell me Sam..........! Malcolm? When? How? Why?" 

The two were seated in a Trattoria downstairs in the food court. 

A steaming bowl of pasta in front of each of them, and a large glass of red. 

Sam laughed. 

"God knows!" She replied. "It wasn't instant. It just kinda crept up on me!" 

"I think it's wonderful!" Laura's face was beaming with a happy glow. 

"Most people think it's weird! I'm weird!" 

"Fuck them! What do they know! When did you first realise?" She took a glug of wine, while Sam considered.

"Not sure. I think I realised quite early that I loved the job, loved working for him. I wasn't afraid of him.....and he quickly saw that. He was always nice to me, considerate. You know." 

"Even though he was bollocking everyone else!?"

"Yeah! Never me! I think I first knew round about the time Hugh resigned. I went into his office one day, and he was sitting with his head in his hands. I just wanted to give him a great big cuddle!" 

Laura laughed out loud. 

"I didn't though!" Sam added hastily. "But it really shocked me that I wanted to. After that it was downhill all the way I'm afraid. Just a massive crush. Like a bloody schoolgirl over a teacher!"

Her gaze fastened on the wall behind her, and she became lost in wistful thought. 

"I guess I saw my Dad in him......I don't mean I looked on him as that.....I SO never did, it was just things he did and said that reminded me.....I knew there was something huge in his past, I knew he was damaged in some way.....I listened to the way other people spoke of him, how they disliked him, hated him even.....and it made me really angry......it was like they didn't see......he was hurting, and no one cared.  
The more they treated him like that, the more I wanted to protect him from it......"

"So you fell in love with him.....?" 

"I guess.....like I say, it wasn't instant.....I started doing little things for him, you know, to show I cared, that I'd got his back. He noticed straight away, and he was confused, he couldn't understand it....why was I being so kind to him? Probably he was a bit suspicious.  
Then when my birthday came round he bought me some flowers......the lady in the shop told him the meaning of them.......yellow roses, continuity in friendship....he had little pearls put in each bud.....my birthstone.....it was the first time he bought me anything personal like that. I was so touched I almost cried....but he was all embarrassed......" 

"Oh Sam, that's so sweet........" 

"Yeah." She shrugged, matter of factly. "Nothing else happened though. He didn't do or say anything....not really.....not for ages......we just kinda continued......"

"He didn't ask you out then?" 

"God no! Not outside of a work situation anyway. There was one time we were in a cab together, going to some boring meeting, and he put his hand over mine, and said 'thanks Sam!' Just that! I thought I was going to explode!" 

She chuckled at the memory. 

"There were a few times when he seemed so desolate I wanted to kiss him SO badly! He's got very kissable lips.....in case you hadn't noticed......?" 

Now it was Laura's turn to giggle. 

"Can't say I have......!"

"He would never have done anything about it. Professional.....to the last! But I knew he liked me....I'd catch him looking at me, with those baby blues of his....from time to time, I'd smile at him, and he'd look away quickly.....get all flustered......like he does........" 

"Seeing you two together now.....it's really special Sam.....really, really special.....you're both very lucky......."

"Oh, you don't need to tell me that! Don't I know it? I tell myself every single day!  
I look back sometimes on that first weekend.....I don't even know what possessed me......to ask him to come back to mine with me.....but he was just so tired and so emotionally drained.....and I just couldn't bear it any longer. I was astonished he agreed to come, to be honest."

"So! That was the start of it all.......?" 

Dessert arrived as they were deep in conversation......two enormous pieces of New York cheesecake. 

"Oh lord! Look at this! Carb overload!" Laura grimaced, then looked up expectantly for her friend's reply. 

But Sam was away with the fairies, a dreamy smile on her face. Laura cupped her hands over her mouth......

 _"Chrrr!_ Earth to Sam......come in Sam..... _.Chrrr!_ Houston.....we have a problem......Miss Cassidy is currently in unstable orbit.....'Ground Control to ginger tom'......." 

She snapped back into the real world with a noticeable jolt. Laura was regarding her fondly across the table, smiling broadly at her new friend. 

"God! So. Sorry!" There were tears pricking in her eyes, and one spilled over, rolling slowly down her cheek. 

To Sam's surprise, Laura rose, came around to her side of the table and enveloped her in a warm and tight hug. 

"Don't cry my darling!" She whispered. "I know how much he means to you. How much you love him. Any fool can see it, you don't have to look hard! He loves you too.....desperately!" 

"Sorry, Laura....I don't know what came over me.....it was just remembering, the moment when he came into the kitchen, that first morning.......I've never seen anyone look more vulnerable and scared in all my life....it was at that second that it really seemed real.....that it was actually happening.....you know?" 

Resuming her seat, Laura kept hold of Sam's hand, she spoke again....

"When I spoke to him at the Burn's night thing......I saw the way he was watching you, when you were dancing with Jamie......just pure adoration......no more no less......as I say.....it's special." She concluded......

"Now this cheesecake, it is calling to me..... _'Laura.......eat me, eat me!_ ' So I'm afraid I just have to give in........"

With that she dug in her fork and let out a satisfied 'mmmmm' as she took her first mouthful. 

Sam roared with laughter.


	14. Pride and Purchases.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam returns home after her shopping trip........what has she bought? 
> 
> Malcolm is keen to find out......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little heart to heart here, between the pair......Malcolm's old insecurities coming out, worrying about stuff he's already sure of! (Don't we all do that?!)

PRIDE AND PURCHASES.

It was evening before Sam arrived home. 

Letting herself back into the house, all was dark and quiet.

Setting down her many bags, she wandered through into the lounge. There were no lamps on, in spite of the twilight hour. The curtains still drawn back.

The only light came from the TV, which flickered as an old black and white film played to itself. 

Malcolm was lying, stretched along the full length of the sofa. 

Legs crossed at the ankle, one arm up, the hand tucked behind his head. Ramsey was artfully arranged across his chest, front paws on either side of his neck. His other hand resting on the cat's back. 

The pair were fast asleep. Blissful. 

Sam smiled down fondly at them both. Malcolm's face was relaxed, jaw slack as he wheezed slightly with each breath as he slumbered.  
Little laughter lines in the corners of his eyes, his beaky nose, that sensual mouth of his. 

Irresistible. 

Leaning over him, she touched her lips to his gently. 

With a small whimper of surprise, he came to.  
Opening his eyes slowly, blinking in the dim light. 

"Wha...wassup?" 

He licked his lips, her taste still lingering, then raised his eyes to meet hers. 

"Oh, hiya love!" 

Yawning, he stretched himself and Ramsey raised his furry head in protest at being disturbed. 

"Busy day?" She said, with some amusement. 

"Yeah! Cream crackered!" He returned. 

"You hungry.....?I bought dinner......Marks and Sparks I'm afraid, but I didn't think you'd mind too much......"

"Nah.....had a whacking great pub lunch....we'll eat it tomorrow....what did you have?" 

"Pasta. And a sinfully large slice of cheesecake.....a sandwich or a boiled egg will do for me!" 

Malcolm raised himself languidly and swung his legs round, carefully depositing the cat onto the floor, where it arched its back, stretched, stuck its tail in the air and flounced out. 

Following her out into the hallway, towards the kitchen, Malcolm noticed the numerous bags.

"Bloody hell! What did you buy?.....or rather, what DIDN'T you buy?" 

Sam was suddenly excited, hopping on one foot. 

"I got loads of stuff....not all for me.....I got stuff for you too....come and see......" Her eyes danced, as she gathered up the shopping bags and carried them through. 

Malcolm smiled indulgently.

"You two had a good day then, I take it?" 

"I did! Oh Malcolm.....I've really enjoyed myself......Laura is lovely, we had such fun...."

He pulled her into a kiss, taking her a little by surprise, but she melted into him with a giggle. 

Releasing her after several moments, he leaned back. 

"Come on then.....show us what you got!" 

With a whoop of glee she began to sort through the carriers. 

Dresses, tops, some trousers, a pair of shoes, other bits and pieces. She held them up against herself as she produced them, like rabbits from a hat, raising a questioning eyebrow for his nod of approval. 

"Did you buy anything sexy......?" He enquired nonchalantly.

"I might have done!" Her glance was flirtatious, almost coquettish, a little knowing smirk on her face. "You get to see that later! Wanna see what I got for you......?" 

"As long as it's not something weird......like a leopard skin thong or something......"

She laughed a merry, tinkling laugh. 

"I think I know you better than that!" She said. 

She had chosen him a couple of really nice shirts, a tie, a gorgeous and expensive fine knit soft sweater, and some 'lounging around the house' check cotton pyjama shorts, which he latched on to straight away. 

"I like these." He remarked, holding them up. "Better than a dressing gown.....allowing freedom for the crotch area whilst preserving the modesty......." 

More laughter. 

"Lucky.....cos I got you two pairs......there's new boxers in there too, and a couple of T shirts......"

"Highly successful then!" He smiled. "So glad you had a good time with Laura.....I like that lass a lot. Wanna hear about my day?" 

Sitting now at the kitchen table, she perched herself comfortably across his lap. Her arms around his neck, his around her waist, fingers interlocked. 

"I'm all ears!" She whispered, kissing him thoroughly. 

oOo

Malcolm was propped up in bed, the pillows stuffed behind his head and back, resting against the head board. 

Sam was lying with her head on his bare chest, his arm slung comfortably around her shoulder.

The duvet covering only as far as his stomach. 

"So he's really going to ask Laura to marry him?" She murmured dreamily.

"Mmm hmm." Malcolm was in a drowsy haze, sleepy and deliciously post coital. 

This wonderful woman snuggled against him, her skin so soft, hair fragrant, her fingers lazily stroking the smattering of hair in the centre of his sternum, letting out a little sigh of contentment every so often. 

Her body swathed in a wisp of black silk and lace. 

The purchase which she'd saved until bedtime.

..........Idly he found himself replaying the last half an hour in his head, her walking out of the bathroom, posing beside the door frame, leaning against it, one arm above her head. 

Malcolm could not tear his gaze away. The curve of her breasts peeking from beneath the material, her firm thighs, the glimpse of skimpy lacy knickers that matched the top. 

A vision. 

"Fucking fuck me!" He breathed. 

"What do you think?" She asked, her voice soft and warm, like treacle. 

"I think I want you over here with me.......now!" He beckoned to her. Inviting her to join him. 

The way she walked, with a sway of her beautiful hips. Sashaying towards him, kneeling beside him where he lay, waiting, anticipating. 

Fuck but she was so gorgeous. What a lucky fucker he was!.........

"He's really in love with her......" Sam's voice filtered through, breaking his pleasant reverie. 

"Yeah." Malcolm shifted slightly, turning onto his side. 

"Did she talk much about him to you today?" 

"A bit.....yeah. She was asking about us too. We talked a lot.....about all sorts." 

"You think she feels the same about him as he does about her?" 

"Absolutely! I don't think she's thought about marriage necessarily, but only because she's afraid of frightening him off......that it's all too soon......men don't usually like to be pushed. She wouldn't want him to think she was shoe horning him into something before he was ready." 

"Is that the way women think? That blokes will think they are trying to put them in a collar and leash?" 

"Well, there are plenty of gold diggers out there......and that's scary for you guys.....isn't it? Come on Malcolm......half the office think that of me......being with you......" 

Malcolm sat up sharply. His face furrowed with a pained expression. 

"Fuck!" For a moment his eyes blazed.....had it really never occurred to him? 

"Malcolm, you can't be surprised.....my own friends thought it.....you heard them......at the wedding..... _'what's the attraction? Well he must be well off?'"_

"Cunts!" 

"Darling, it's no different for Laura with Jamie. The fact she's an affluent professional woman means diddly squat. Jamie is ten years older than her, he has a well paid, important position....he moves in exalted circles.....like you.....a divorcee......he'd be quite a catch......" 

"And that's how people think.....other women think? Is it?" 

"Not just women. Blokes think it too....... _'watch her mate, she's only after your wad!'_ You must have come across it. Laura doesn't want to be seen to be jumping the gun." 

"Jamie's shit scared of asking her, he's afraid it's too soon too....and she'll think he's desperate.....or too keen......fucking hell, it's a minefield!" 

"Well, I think he should follow his heart, do what he wants to do, and not worry too much about the opinion of others!" 

"That's what I told him. Pretty much those exact words. He was after MY approval mainly......" 

"That's sweet Malcolm. He's a tiny bit in love with you I think!" 

"Don't be daft! He's just a sentimental fucker.....touchy feely......he always was!  
A hugger, an arm squeezer! He was never gonna survive the celibate lifestyle in the priesthood.....he's a lover, always will be." 

Sam smiled, and kissed him. 

"He's always felt a fierce loyalty towards you though. He hero worships you, you know? Nancy told me that when she married Mac, he was over the moon, because it meant you two were family." 

Malcolm raised his eyebrows. Then assented with a shrug. 

"Yeah. I guess I've always known it.....kinda pushed it aside though. Half the folks at Number Ten thought we were a couple!" 

"Oh, I know that! That's why Julius was always sniffing around you. He thought you were gay, and when you and Jamie fell out, he thought he might be in with a chance! Everyone was talking about it!" 

Malcolm huffed angrily. 

"Well, people need to get a life, instead of endlessly speculating on my love life, or my sexuality! Fuck me.....even if I was the gayest man in the village I wouldn't have looked twice at Nicholson....."

"Well, it didn't help that you still wore your wedding ring......then when you and Jamie had that tiff you stopped wearing it......you kinda invited the gossip......all bets were on in the office! I thought you did it on purpose, to goad them, or keep them guessing?" 

"Fuck no! Coincidence! I wore it as a fucking deterrent.....not that I needed one! Then I woke up one day and realised I didn't give a shit any more......so I took it off......"

He was sitting on the edge of the bed now, running his fingers through his hair, flattening it down then letting it spring up again.  
Sam went up on her knees behind him. Threading her arms around his waist. Kissing his neck, and making him shiver. 

He could feel the sensual softness of the silk against his spine, her warm breath near his throat.  
Turning his head he tried to capture her mouth, but it was a glancing touch. 

"You weren't in this camp I assume? And I use the word 'camp' in the 'faction' sense not the 'limp wristed' sense......" He enquired, as if seeking reassurance. 

Running her hands over his chest and down to his stomach teasingly she smiled into the skin just behind his ear. 

"Malcolm......I never for one moment thought of you as anything other than heterosexual. Or Jamie for that matter.....and so what if you were? It's no one else's business. You two have a strong bond......lots of men do......it doesn't have to be a sexual thing.....girls sometimes have the same connection, and that's not a necessarily a lesbian thing either....it's just sisterly affection......don't make a big deal of it.....because it isn't.....it just is what it is......and I ignored what was nothing more than stupid office tittle tattle from the likes of Reeder......"

"So you wouldn't care then? If I was bi......I mean.....I've nothing against gays Sam.......nothing at all.......hell, I helped repeal anti-gay legislation when we were in government yonks ago......when those stupid arses now at DoSAC were still being stroked behind the bike sheds......"

"Malcolm! Stop! Why are we even having this conversation? I know who and what you are. You don't have to explain yourself or your friendships to me.....or anyone else for that matter!  
When people don't know what's going on in your life, they like to speculate.....then when they do finally know.....they hate.....fuck them!"

"Yeah. You're right. I don't care. Like you say.....fuck 'em!" 

"I hope Jamie does pluck up the courage to ask her though.....I think she'll say yes......we love them both.....don't we? It'll be lovely......them being together." 

Closing his hands over Sam's forearms, where they were now clasped around his shoulders and across his neck, Malcolm squeezed them tight.  
Resting his head back against her with a sigh. 

"I so want him to be happy Sam......he was so animated today, like a school kid......so desperate for me to tell him it'd be alright......daft fucker......." 

"He trusts you and he trusts your judgement. He knows you wouldn't give him a load of flannel. You'd be honest with him. Say what you thought. That's true friendship. You never have many people like that in your life, one or two at most. They're a gift, and very special indeed. I'm glad you and Jamie have that.....and the fact that you lost it for a while, then regained it, makes it even more meaningful." 

"Yeah. That's what he said to me today. Soppy wanker!" 

Sam laughed. 

"You don't mean that! You're as soft as he is.....the pair of you are as bad as each other. He's closer to you than he is to his real brother. Even Mac says the same!"

She released her arms from his grip and scooted off the bed. 

"I'm gonna take a shower.....I'm wet and sticky......and it's all your fault!" She announced, looking down at her legs with a frown. 

"Fuck....Sam.....but that's very erotic.....that right there......" He breathed, his gaze also fastening on her thighs.

She turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised, half amusement, half mock annoyance. 

"What is?" 

"You......standing there.....in that amazing get-up.....crotch soaked.....with my semen running down your legs......fuck me!" 

"Filthy bugger!" She giggled. "You coming in there with me, or not.....?" 

She turned and wriggled her scantily covered bottom at him. 

Malcolm didn't need asking twice.


	15. In Sickness.....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam isn't well.......
> 
> Then Malcolm isn't well........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter came completely out of nowhere. 
> 
> It was written more or less in one go, and wasn't the chapter I was going to write at all.

IN SICKNESS..........

It was a slow dawning.....

Waking with a start, Malcolm wasn't quite sure what time it was, or where he was. 

It was pitch dark. 

He glanced briefly at the clock......03.22.......

The place in the bed beside him, which should have been warm and delightfully filled with a fragrant nude body, was, instead, cold and empty. 

Coming to slowly, he rubbed his eyes and sat up. 

The bathroom light was on. 

Sounds coming from within. 

Retching. 

Suddenly concerned, Malcolm, buck naked, slung his legs out of bed and followed the pitiful sounds.

There was Sam, kneeling on the floor, leaning over the toilet bowl, throwing up copiously. 

He went to her, leaning over, a hand on her bare back, taking hold of her hair, drawing it away from her face. 

She groaned, and heaved again. 

Under his fingers her skin was clammy, and yet, as she sat back on her heels and looked up at him, he could see she was burning up. 

"Fuck.....Sam.....what can I do?" Down on his knees at her side, his hand rubbing across her shoulder blades gently. 

She shook her head, unable to vocalise without the need to put her head over the lavatory pan again. 

Her limbs were a quiver. Soaked with perspiration. 

"Are you in pain?" He asked tenderly. 

"I ache." Her voice barely a whisper. 

"I'll fetch you something....." 

Leaving her there, he took his robe from the hook on the back of the door, and padded downstairs. 

Ramsey, curled in his cozy cat bed, gave a chirrup of surprise as he entered the kitchen, wondering what was up. 

He stroked the cat behind the ears. 

"Your mama is poorly." He told the animal, as if it understood his every word, it rubbed around his ankles, purring. 

He fetched water, a bowl, tablets, and put the kettle on, then returned to the bedroom. 

By now Sam was seated on the edge of the bed. Holding her middle. Her hair was plastered to her head and she quaked as if she were being forcibly shaken.  
Teeth chattering. 

"What's bought this on?" He asked. "Something you ate?" 

She shook her head. 

"I was feeling a bit off yesterday.....thought I was just tired.....I woke up with stomach ache, and I'm so cold......SO cold......" 

"Here, take these, hopefully you'll keep them down. Christ Sam.....you're burning with fever....."

She took the glass from him with a trembling hand and necked the pills. 

"You want me to shower you? Make you more comfortable?" His arm was around her shoulder, protective, comforting. 

Looking up at him she nodded.

"Please Malc.....that'd be great, feel a bit wobbly......"

Taking her hands, he led her back to the bathroom, turned on the spray. Holding the nozzle in his hand. Helping her inside, and administering to her with great care. 

Drying her off, pulling an old T shirt over her head, then taking her back to bed and settling her comfortably. 

"Shall I make you some tea?" 

"No, water is fine......I want to sleep now......I feel exhausted....." 

She snuggled into him, cooler now, and was soon drifting into a fitful slumber. 

He must have slept again too, although it didn't feel like it. 

Morning came all too soon. 

Damp, hot and sticky. A sheen of sweat on her brow and top lip. 

Rising, he left her to rest. Shaved and showered. Bought her more tablets. 

At least she hadn't vomited again. 

By the time he'd made and eaten breakfast, she wandered downstairs and into the kitchen.

"I've made you some toast......didn't think you'd fancy much......?" 

"Don't think I can eat it.....but I'll try........feel better once the tablets start working." 

"You stay in bed today......I'll manage.......not much on this morning, we can cope......"

"No way! I'll be fine......I'll power through it." 

"Sam, you're ill. There's no need......really." 

"I've never had a single sick day.......not even a duvet day....I'm not about to start now. I had a dodgy tummy, I'm alright now, just a little weak." 

Malcolm huffed, but knew it was pointless arguing. 

She dressed, drank a cup of weak tea. It went right through her......but she didn't tell Malcolm. 

Their car arrived. 

As soon as they reached the Norman Shaw Buildings, Malcolm was forced to swing into action. 

Nicola had Prime Minister's Question Time in The House, first thing, and Malcolm needed to get over to the Commons early.  
Being in Opposition often meant quizzing the PM vociferously about policies and potential new laws, taking the Government to task, keeping it on its toes. 

Today it was all about National Security......potential threats, the safety of ministers as they took their constituency clinics, in the wake of a couple of quite nasty physical attacks. 

It was important that the Opposition's fears were voiced and addressed. Malcolm had prepared a statement for Murray to launch at the PM.....one look at Sam told him she wasn't fit to accompany him.

"You stay here Sam......I'll go to Westminster alone.....I'll be back in a couple of hours, there's some appointments I need you to make and emails that need your attention. I also need you to go through this speech for me.....all of which you can do at your desk.....if you need to go home.....then for god's sake go.....don't be a fucking hero. No one will thank you for it!" 

He kissed her with great affection, much to the other secretary's amusement, he caught her smirk. 

"What are you fucking looking at?" 

Quailing, the woman kept her eyes cast down, a deep blush on her cheek.

Malcolm gathered his coat and papers together with a final icy glare towards her desk and hit the road. 

On his return he was triumphant, the Question Time having gone well.  
His evident pleasure as he looked on from the Gallery above........as opposition members bayed like a pack of foxhounds.... _'here, here', 'here, here'_ waving their papers over their heads, as Nicola Murray pummelled into the PM verbally, firing Malcolm's carefully prepared broadside.  
The Speaker, attempting to restore quiet, and allow the Prime Minister to reply, shouting himself hoarse..... _'ORDER! ORDER!'_

Highlight of his fucking day! And it was only Wednesday! 

He left with a spring in his step. Walking briskly back to the office, to both allow himself the fresh air, and give himself a welcome stretch of his legs.  
Checking his phone.....no messages from Sam. He'd what's app'd her earlier.

_"You okay love? M xxx"_

_"Fine. Don't worry about me! S xxx"_

But Sam was clearly struggling. 

Standing in the pantry, sipping a glass of water. 

"Love!........You look like shit.......go home for fucks sake.....I'll call you a cab......"

He reached for his mobile, speed dial.

"I'm fine.....really........" 

As she spoke she seemed to crumple. Malcolm caught both her and the tumbler. Setting it down on the counter behind her as she sank down. 

Cheeks deathly pale. A grey pallor. 

"Right! That's it! No arguments, you're going home, and I'm going to take you......come on!" 

With his arms firmly around her to support her weight, he helped her to a seat. 

Limp and floppy. Unresponsive. 

"Sorry Malc......" She murmured. "Feel such a fraud....." 

"Fuck that! Home! And I'm calling the doc......" 

"NO!" She protested. "It's just a bug or something.....I'll be ok......"

Malcolm ignored her. 

oOo

It was a slow dawning.......

Sam was just a lump under the covers. Only her hair visible. 

He'd got her upstairs. Undressed her. Put her to bed. 

Bowl. Water. Tablets. 

Doctor. 

He waited whilst she was examined, hovering in the doorway. 

"Well?" He collared the doc as soon as he'd finished with her. 

"I think it's Gastro-Enteritis.....probably caused by a virus. She'll be right as rain in a day or two. Just plenty of rest, fluids, that's about it really. Plenty of hand washing and hygiene to prevent spread."

"Oh......right! Okay! Thanks for that, Doc.....I'll show you out!" 

Leaning over the dozing form, Malcolm placed a little kiss on her head.

"Hey! Sweetie?" 

She roused, and turned over. 

"I've gotta go back to the office for a bit.....you'll be okay?" 

"Sure. I'll get some kip......see you later......" Her eyelids were heavy with sleep.

"Fuck, Sam, don't wanna leave you.....but I've got a meeting I can't get out of......I've cancelled everything else. Soon as it's done I'll be home with you.....yeah?"

"Bless you. I'll be alright. So tired Malc......" 

"There's tablets, water, everything you need.....by the bedside, okay? Be careful won't you.....? Especially if you get up to go to the loo or anything.....don't want you passing out again.......falling and hurting yourself....." 

His expression was full of concern.

"I'll just stay here.....not moving......not going anywhere.....don't worry about me....."

"I do fucking worry about you......you're ill and I should be here by your side, and instead I'm fucking off, leaving you on your own.....it sucks Sam.....I suck!"

"Malcolm, darling! Don't! I'm not dying, I've got a tummy bug.....I'll be fine......honestly! Now go! Be magnificent! I'll see you later."

She squeezed his hand with hers and settled down with a grateful sigh.

When Malcolm arrived home several hours later she'd barely moved!

Ramsey curled at her side. You're never alone when you own a cat! 

oOo

It was a slow dawning.....

......that Sam was almost fully recovered now. Back at work.  
A little pale perhaps ........ _'peaky_ '.......his old mam would have said......but otherwise fine.  
Her period had come the day after Malcolm bought her home from the office.....talk about _'it never rains but it pours'!_

In some ways Malcolm was relieved by that fact. In other ways he was not. 

He was sitting now, at his desk.........

...........experiencing a weird mixture of strangely conflicting thoughts. 

The conflict was all his, and he said nothing to Sam about it whatsoever. 

Wouldn't.

Couldn't. 

Unspoken wishes in the back of his mind? 

When he'd woken that night, found her throwing up......he thought just for a moment there.......well, he thought......

........knew it couldn't really be, it was most unlikely......but somehow.......oh fuck it all! 

What a selfish cunt he was. 

Tummy bug! _'Thank goodness that's all it is'_.....he'd said to her. 

She'd looked at him oddly. Swallowed visibly. Looked as if she was going to cry.

Flustered him rather. 

He'd rallied himself....... _'as opposed to appendicitis or something'_ , he'd said quickly. 

Heard the little catch in her breath. The wan smile she'd given him that didn't quite reach her eyes. 

But it got him thinking........and shit......she seemed somehow disappointed that she only had a tummy bug too......why?

Was she hoping it was something else as well......?" 

It occurred to him, scarily, he'd have been over the fucking moon.......and that worried him. 

Why was he so fucking unsettled? Over something that wasn't even real. There was never a chance.......

........and it was surely not what Sam wanted.

At least she'd never said. Nor had he for that matter. 

Living for the moment. That's what they'd been doing.  
They'd agreed......no future plans. Not too far into the future anyway. For now at least. 

Just be happy and content......and he fucking was......so much so.  
More than he'd ever been in his entire life. Sure she felt the same way. 

It's was just that........oh fuck it......forget about it Malcolm.....it's never gonna bloody happen. 

Stop fucking thinking about it. Torturing yourself. Being stupid. 

No, it was fine. Everything was fine. 

He was glad. She was well now. 

She'd come on.......

......he noticed how quiet she was the following day, when she'd discovered she was bleeding, as she got up in the night to go to the toilet.......but, well, she'd been ill......she was bound to be quiet.......not her usual cheerful self........

His phone rang, made him jump. Just as his office door opened and Sam bought in his coffee. 

"Okay love?" He asked, reaching to answer it. 

She nodded, a tight little smile. 

So as not to interrupt him she left as quietly as she'd entered.

oOo

It was a slow dawning........

......as she sat on the loo. Staring down between her legs. 

Fuck! 

Fuck, fuck, FUCK!

She'd been two weeks late. 

Always as regular as clockwork. Never 28 days. Usually 30. That was her norm. Could pretty much set her watch by it. 

Except it hadn't come. 

The weird thing was, she wasn't a bit worried. Not in the least. It didn't matter. No panic, no fear.  
She didn't rush to Boot's and by a test kit. She didn't even consider doing that. 

If she was, she was. 

It was meant to be.  
Butterflies in her stomach.......crazy! 

This was crazy. 

Malcolm had never really talked about it to her.......not really ever mentioned it in conversation. 

Just happy to go with what they had. So was she. It was bloody wonderful. 

As the days passed into a week, then became two, she had this strange sense of building euphoria....could imagine herself telling him.....seeing his face........what would his reaction be? 

Pleased......she was sure......he'd be thrilled.....wouldn't he? 

He'd want it as much as she apparently did.  
Even though it had been the furthest thing from her mind. 

Then the vomiting began. She was so certain. 

She left the lavatory, numbed, stepped into the shower cubicle. Standing under the spray. 

Crying. 

What the fuck for? 

She was weeping for something that never was. 

She didn't even want it......did she? Wasn't part of the plan at all....

Watched as her menstrual blood went down the plug.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK! 

oOo

It was a slow dawning......

........that he didn't feel well, and was feeling very low for some reason. 

Throat a bit raspy. Stomach a bit jippy.  
Then the shits hit him. He went from perfectly normal to arse spraying mayhem.  
Only just made it to the gents....into a stall......bolt thrown....trousers down. 

Jesus fucking Christ! 

Pebbledash! 

Queasy. Perspiring. 

Fuck! 

He'd got it now. 

Up half the night. Groaning with violent stomach cramps. 

His tummy seemed anxious to expel its contents as quickly as possible, his arse likewise, keen to rid itself of the entire world.  
He felt like he was actually passing his own innards. 

Floored him. Completely. Weak as a kitten.  
How the fuck had Sam endured this and still managed to get up and go into work? 

Unable to function or to be further than ten feet from a toilet. 

Took to his bed. Curled into a ball. 

Whimpered pathetically for water. 

The cat slept beside him. A constant companion. 

Sam gave him all the tender loving care and attention he'd shown to her.  
Fed him, watered him. Helped him wash. Ministered to his every need.

She seemed her old self again now. 

Quite as she was before. Must have just been the illness after all. 

Now everything was back to normal again. 

Malcolm had been a fool. Allowed his thoughts and emotions to get the better of him. 

Carried away by some daft notion.

Tomorrow he'd be back at work. 

Back to reality. 

Because the other thing hadn't been real. It was just a dream.....


	16. Intruders.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm is rudely awakened by the cat....then he and Sam hear a noise downstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's be clear here.....Malcolm Tucker isn't a ninja warrior.....nor is he particularly a hero, he's just protecting what he loves the best way he knows how. 
> 
> So is Sam.
> 
> I'm sure he'd have had some rough assignments as a junior reporter, particularly in his early Glasgow days......therefore he might well feel the need for a deterrent. We also know he's perfectly capable of throwing a punch.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.  
INTRUDERS.

It was an odd quietness. 

Which settled over both of them. 

For some reason it drew them even closer.

Barely leaving each other's side. Feeling strange if they were apart for any reason. 

Sam voiced her feelings first, well, it was always going to be her. Malcolm wouldn't have said a word.  
Although he had exactly the same sensations. 

"I feel weird Malc.......like a sense of impending doom....." 

He'd hugged her, kissed her on the top of her head. Comforted her, told her it was nothing.......but he felt it too. 

Disquiet. 

There were a couple of nights where he had bad dreams. Woke in a sweat. 

First time in a while. 

In one of these nocturnal meanderings he could hear a child crying pitifully. He was in a house, not his own, at least he didn't recognise it. All was dark and unfamiliar.  
Wandering the rooms in desperation. A sense of urgency. Trying to track down the source of the sound.  
As the wailing became more and more insistent, he seemed to be further and further away from it. 

At the top of some stairs, a door, which he pushed open gingerly, entering a nursery with a dim night light, a cot in the centre, a child's musical mobile playing over it. Brahms Lullaby.  
Over and over again. Ringing in his ears and mingling with the squalling baby.  
Reaching the bars and peeping in, he was confronted with......Ramsey.......yowling. 

He woke with a start. 

The cat was nose to nose with him. Paws on his chest. Mewing plaintively. 

"What the fuck? How did you get in here?" 

Sam stirred beside him and opened her eyes. 

"Don't tell me he's prised open the door again?" She yawned. 

Malcolm was about to kick the errant moggy out, when he heard a small sound. 

Sam heard it at the same moment. 

"Malcolm!" She hissed. "There's someone downstairs!" 

oOo

They both listened intently for a few seconds. 

Hearts hammering.

"Take the cat, and your phone.....lock yourself in the bathroom Sam......do it quietly......do it now." 

Malcolm's voice was a reedy whisper. 

"You're coming with me....you're not going down there!" She barked back through clenched teeth. 

Reaching under the bed, Malcolm's fingers closed around a set of nunchucks he kept there.

"What are you doing? Who the fuck do you think you are.....Bruce fucking Lee?" 

His finger clamped over her lips to quiet her. 

"Hush!" 

Sliding out of bed, they closed the bathroom door noiselessly behind them and turned the lock.

"Ring 999." Said Malcolm softly. 

Sam breathed a sigh of relief......she had envisaged him creeping downstairs in the dark to take on the burglar or burglarS. 

Clearly he had no intention of doing so. 

She dialled with a trembling finger and spoke into the phone with her hand clamped over her mouth so as to make the least noise possible. 

Together they crouched there. 

In the pitch black. 

Listening. 

Every sound seemed magnified and sharp. 

Shuffling and rustling coming from downstairs. Sounds of the place being thoroughly turned over.

Normally an opportunist thief would grab laptop or other small saleable items and make tracks. 

Clearly not this burglar, he seemed to be searching for something. 

This worried Malcolm. 

Did he think no one was home? Or did he just not care that he might disturb the occupants, because he knew they could be easily dealt with? 

It did not appear the burglar was being especially quiet. Quite the opposite. 

"How long did the police say?" He asked.

"ASAP." 

"Fuck. That could be half an hour!" 

Malcolm knew this situation had the potential to not end well. 

He also knew they must remain hidden and silent. 

Ear to the door he heard the muffled thud of boots on the stairs. 

A footstep enter the bedroom. A muted voice. Someone speaking low. 

Fuck......there was more than one......

One, he might be able to tackle....two or more would be impossible, he had no idea if they were armed, if they were just kids out for a jolly, or seasoned hard men. 

Was their house picked at random, or especially targeted? 

The blood was pounding thick in his ears. He felt alert. Buzzing. Keen. 

Who was it that said..... _'Fear is a superpower'.......?_

He wasn't sure what he'd do if they came through that door.....mind racing with various possible scenarios. 

Outside he could hear drawers being opened. The wardrobe pulled out, the dressing table. 

One of them had discovered Sam's jewellery box and was trying to prise it open. Clearly having difficulty. 

He glanced sideways at Sam. 

Her eyes were wide and full of fear. A tear sliding down her face, the glint caught in the headlights of a passing car. 

Silently he reached for her in the dark, closed his fingers round her hand and squeezed. 

Ramsey also seemed to sense the danger, and rubbed around her legs as she crouched by the handbasin.  
The cat didn't make a sound. 

Movements continued. Thumps and footfalls. 

Malcolm's Blackberry.......shit.....it was charging on the bedside cabinet. 

An exchange between two voices. 

"There's nothing here. There has to be a safe....or a hidden place....." 

Feet coming towards the door behind which they cowered. 

Malcolm felt as if his chest would explode. But he was ready. Whatever happened next, he was fucking ready.....

........as slowly........very slowly.......the door handle was turned, then rattled aggressively. 

oOo

The suddenness with which the door was violently forced open came as quite a shock.

The strength of a burly shoulder behind it.

Malcolm jumped backwards, pushing Sam behind his body, as a torchlight flashed into his face, temporarily blinding him.  
Ramsey made a bolt for freedom, his fur standing up on end. 

As his eyes adjusted he was able to take in what confronted him. 

Two men. One tallish, one shorter.

All in black, balaclavas. Gloves. Rucksacks. 

Malcolm held his arms out and away from his body. 

A gesture of surrender, non threatening. 

"Just take whatever the fuck you want and get out!" He said firmly. 

The torchlight played across his body, as if scanning him. Weighing up the potential threat....or not.  
T shirt, pyjama shorts, bare legs and feet. 

Sam, only a pale face visible. Terror illuminated.

Peeping round from behind his shoulders, her hands resting on them, gripping tight. 

"Where's the rest?" The taller man demanded, his tone menacing. 

"Rest?" Malcolm was confused. 

"The rest of the stuff Tucker.......papers......discs......files?" 

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about......" 

But he did. 

They knew who and what he was. 

They were aware he worked for the government once, and now the opposition, they knew he had dossiers of dirt on certain ministers, which he kept safe and sound....just in case.....Malcolm Tucker knew where the bodies were buried.....hadn't Julius said that to him once.....many moons ago?" 

"Come out here.....you.......bitch......" 

The taller man beckoned to Sam. 

She glanced at Malcolm, nervously. 

Oh, he knew where this was going! He knew exactly what was coming next. 

They would hold Sam....threaten her, even hurt her......and he would have do whatever they wanted. 

Well......not on this day......

To his astonishment, Malcolm was no longer frightened. He was angry. 

Fucking livid. 

He'd been targeted specifically. That much was clear. Probably even sent by a third party. They were looking, not for riches, but for sensitive information.  
Which could only mean that someone knew, and that some snippet he had in his possession was very important indeed......there was no way they were leaving with anything......no way on earth. 

"NO!" He said, with stern authority. "She stays here. With me. There's nothing else in this house to find. Fuck off now, while you still can......before it all goes pear shaped....." 

"I said......fucking come here......" The masked man gestured to Sam forcefully. 

What happened next was unexpected. 

In fact it was several things.....all apparently in slow motion. 

Malcolm launched himself at the taller man, swinging the nunchucks at his head. Not as they were meant to be used, but more as a truncheon. 

Shouting to Sam....

"RUN SAM!.....get the fuck out......" 

His assault was so sudden that the air was knocked from the intruder, and he staggered, losing his balance and falling, Malcolm's weight coming down on top of him. 

Grappling with the wiry Scot, whose strength belied his build. He took a heavy smack in the nose and jaw from the chain sticks, which Malcolm had pushed down the back of his waistband out of sight. 

Bleeding copiously from the nostrils, he yelled for help to his accomplice, who had initially, vaulted over them both, chasing after Sam, as she sprinted athletically across to the landing and down the stairs.  
Turning back at his friend's cry for assistance, he returned, leaping onto Malcolm's back, grabbing him around the throat. 

Malcolm was fighting for his life now. He stood no chance against two young fit men. His advantage lost. 

The tables were turned. 

He took several blows in the face from the man beneath him, and the other, on top, was choking the very life from his body.

In a few seconds he began to see stars. 

Knew for certain he was going to lose consciousness......his thoughts now were only for Sam.....and what might happen to her without him. 

It made him desperate. Struggling for all he was worth, as he felt himself fading. 

Behind his head there was a sudden deafening crack. 

Metal on bone. 

Skull to be exact. 

The hands that gripped his neck loosened. It was as if the man were felled, like a tree.  
With a surprised look on his face, he lurched forwards, stunned. 

Malcolm pushed him off, gasping and wheezing, turning over, looking up, even the man beneath him seemed to be frozen in shock. 

Sam, resplendent in her _'Hello Kitty'_ pyjamas, was standing over the three of them wielding a poker. 

She was breathing raggedly. Her eyes wild with fury. 

From somewhere down the street there wailed a siren, blue lights flashing, but she hardly noticed it. 

Her voice was harsh and fierce, cold as steel. 

"You want some of this too......" She brandished the pointed fire iron menacingly, glaring down at Malcolm's assailant.  
"..........come on......take on a weak and feeble woman.....in her own home......make my fucking day......." 

Malcolm struggled to his feet, coughing hoarsely, holding his lividly bruised throat.  
Then pulled the masked man up with him, by his coat lapels. 

"I'd listen to her if I were you mate......" He said quietly, wiping the blood from his split lip with the back of his hand. 

"She's taken on terrorists armed with AK-47's........you're small fry in comparison....." 

The man looked from one to the other, making an executive decision. Wrenching himself free of Malcolm's grip, he bolted down the stairs and out of the back door......the route by which he'd entered, across the courtyard, over the fence and away. 

oOo

"Seriously! Malcolm! Nunchucks? What the fuck?" 

The two were now seated in their ransacked kitchen. Blankets around their shoulders. 

Paramedics were cleaning Malcolm's hideously swollen face, tending to him, as he tried to sip strong hot tea. 

Sam was all a tremble. Shock having set in. Teary.

The house was crawling with police, uniformed officers, paper suited SOCO, medics....people everywhere. 

"Well, I kept them there, under the bed, just in case......I've no clue how to use them, I'm not a fucking ninja........I've had them donkey's years.....since I was a reporter......we went to some pretty dodgy places you know......you forget, I grew up in Glasgow......."

"Fucking hell, Malcolm! They could have killed you......" 

She watched, shaking violently, as the intruder she'd floored was lead out to a waiting ambulance, complaining loudly, a large pressure bandage on his head. 

He was only the trusty sidekick.....not the brains but the brawn.....the leader escaped. 

The neighbours were all out in the street or in their front gardens, standing around, or peering out from behind their curtains. 

This was the sort of notoriety Malcolm didn't need. 

The press were gathered too, by his precious hedge........cameras at the ready. 

"For fucks sake....." Malcolm groaned. "All I want is a bit of peace in my life....." 

Wincing, as antiseptic was applied to his bloody lip, the female medical officer looked at him critically. 

"You need to come in, so we can X-ray you.....you have a large contusion on your forehead, and this lip needs stitching." 

"Oh fuck that! I'm okay....just a headache and a lot of blood that's all.....feel like I've been hit with a baseball bat!" 

"Malcolm, for god's sake just do as you're told.....you might have a skull fracture, you could have a bloody haemorrhage in the night or something......or at the very least a concussion....let them check you out you stupid sod.....they could have staved your bloody head in......Jesus!" 

She began to weep almost manically, her body shaking all over. 

"Hey! Love! Come on....I'm fine, okay......take more than that to bash in my skull......" 

She hung from his neck, sobbing. 

"I thought he was going to kill you.....when I realised the other one wasn't chasing me....I knew he'd gone back......I had to do something......I had to......" 

Malcolm spoke very softly.

"Talk about me! You should have done as YOU were told, got out......you were crazy coming back.....what would I have done if they'd hurt you.....hey? Hey, my girl? Fuck it Sam......I would never have forgiven myself.......I promised Paul I'd look after you......imagine if they'd......" 

He tailed off, unable to continue, as emotion got the better of him. 

Turning to the ambulance woman, he meekly released Sam from his embrace, and said,

"Come on then, let's get this over......I'm fucking exhausted." 

oOo

An hour later Malcolm was on a trolley in a cubicle in A&E. 

Sam seated beside him. 

What a fine pair they made!

Malcolm looked as though he'd been run over by a truck. 

Bruising was now coming out, his face was black and blue. A huge contusion the size of an egg on his forehead. He sported stitches in his lip, covered with sterri-strips. Around his neck and throat each individual finger mark of his assailant was visible. 

Sam was deathly pale. Pupils dilated. Hands shaking. She clutched them together, around half a cup of cold tea, holding it tightly, but it didn't help. 

Once given the all clear, told that, yes, as Malcolm rightly suspected, his head was in fact as hard as iron, and there was no lasting damage, they found a friendly faced police officer waiting in reception. 

"Sorry Mr Tucker.....I've bought you a bag of essentials.....you can't go back to your house tonight, not until the forensic teams have finished going through everything. We've arranged for you to stay in a hotel just for the night.....hopefully you can return home tomorrow." 

Holding out his hand to Sam, Malcolm nodded, resignedly, and they left together in a patrol car. 

oOo

Babes in the wood.

That's what he felt like.

Like the day he and Nancy had fallen asleep together on her sofa, after his collapse at Faversham's place.

In bed.

A strange bed. 

Not his own, not as comfortable, not as safe, not familiar, clinical, the scent of the sheets all wrong. 

He and Sam showered together, they stood under the spray for ages. But the taint of fear and vulnerability didn't wash from them. 

The smell of blood. Metallic. It was all over Malcolm's clothes. 

Sam's to, by proxy. 

His T shirt had been given over to the Forensics team, bagged and sealed.......as some of the blood was his, some belonging to the escaped intruder. He'd been given a charming green hospital theatre top to wear. 

Drying themselves carefully. Both shivering. Unable to get warm. 

Crawling under the duvet. Sam seemed to melt into him. Couldn't get close enough. 

She began to cry. 

It wasn't hysterical wailing. It was a heart rending, gut wrenching, quiet weeping, that tore the soul right out of you. 

All the fear and anguish seeping out. He held her, hushed her, tried to sooth her. But he was hurting himself. 

Badly. 

Head pounding. Sore and wounded.  
Desperately tired. 

Feeling as if he were sliding under water. Unable to swim up. Drowning in a sea of confusion and bewilderment. 

Drifting, she too eventually fell silent. His head nodding and falling forwards, chin resting on the top of her's. Gradually his hand slipped down her back, becoming heavy as lead. Tense muscles relaxing. 

They slept. 

Their bodies demanded it. 

He was rudely awakened by housekeeping. 

It was ten thirty. Breakfast was long over, but neither was ready to be disturbed.

Malcolm told the woman to fuck off......which maybe wasn't the kindest thing......but under the circumstances, perhaps understandable. 

He pulled the still slumbering Sam close to him, she whimpered and snuggled, he went straight back to sleep. 

Simply didn't care. She was here, with him. Physically unharmed. It was all that mattered. They were both alive and relatively unscathed. 

Lucky. 

Fuck everything else. 

It was lunchtime before they eventually emerged to face the cold light of day.


	17. Carnage.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the break-in. 
> 
> Sam phones a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've tried, more than anything here, to capture the sense of violation one feels following a break in. The invasion of ones private space and security. 
> 
> It affects them both.
> 
> All the sensitive information Malcolm holds, I've taken directly from Malcolm's conversation outside Richard Bacon's radio studio, with Stewart Pearson, just after the 'Tim from Ruislip' debacle. It's an interesting exchange, and tells us as much about Pearson as it does about Malcolm. In that he clearly has dirt files of his own.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.  
CARNAGE.

 

It was mid afternoon before they returned to Malcolm's house. The house they now shared.

The lunch hours had been spent at the police station going over and embellishing their witness statements. 

Malcolm's head felt as if it were stuffed with cotton wool.

A buzzing and tinnitus in his ears which would not let up, it made him terribly dizzy and weary.

Their home looked as if it had been hit by a scud missile. 

Ramsey......all but forgotten in all the fracas, asleep, dejected in his cat bed in the middle of all the shambles. 

The back door had been temporarily boarded up by the constabulary. 

Papers and detritus strewn everywhere. Every drawer, door and surface dusted with white fingerprint powder.  
Furniture overturned, clothes pulled out of wardrobes and chests of drawers. 

Several things were missing, amongst them Malcolm's laptop and official Blackberry. 

Sam surveyed the carnage in dismay. 

There was blood on the bedroom carpet, some of it Malcolm's and some the unknown intruder's, it also spattered the wall in the bathroom, and the floor tiles. It had been cordoned off with plastic tape so that it remained untouched whilst forensics carried out their work, and was now a forlorn and muddied square.

Malcolm slumped down on the sofa, exhausted, he seemed deflated somehow. 

As if all strength of will had left him. He had been doing so well and now this was a blow which hit him too hard, both mentally and physically. 

If he was honest with himself, he felt unwell, woozy and muddleheaded. Not that he said anything, either in the hospital or to Sam. 

Didn't want to worry or frighten her. 

Sitting amid the chaos, gazing about him in despair, only now was it really sinking in.....the full enormity of it all.......someone had actually arranged this......he had enemies......real enemies.......who would wish him, and by extension, Sam, harm.........he closed his eyes, trying to shut it out. 

Visions swimming through his mind, the fingers closing around his throat, the feeling of sinking slowly and inexorably down into oblivion. 

Mortality. 

Clear and precise. 

Seconds from death. That was quite a profound and life changing thing to realise, and come to terms with.

IF Sam had carried on running, done as she was told, IF she had not turned back when she realised she was no longer being pursued, IF she'd saved herself as he'd asked her to......IF.......IF.......that would have been it. 

Curtains. 

_Sayonara. Auf Wiedersehen pet. Tatty Bye. All she fucking wrote._

Now came a picture of Sam, on fire, murder in her eyes, the poker from the hearth held aloft.....

Malcolm began to weep. 

His shoulders shook, he blubbed......making no sound.......but it made his head feel as if it would split asunder. 

Unaware of the misery unfolding in the living room just feet away, Sam crunched through the broken glass on the kitchen floor, her eyes sweeping the devastation. 

A sudden fit of violent anger filled her. 

She felt violated. Dirty. Filthy. Soiled. 

Her home, THEIR home, her possessions, Malcolm's possessions, his sanctuary, their very own port in a storm, the place where they felt most safe, their little castle. Sullied. 

Bastards.......cunts......FUCK.......FUCK.......FUCK........! 

Deep breaths. Calm. Eyes closed. Steeling herself. Hands balled into fists at her sides. 

She could do this.......had to.......she had carried on living in the house where her father killed himself, as a seventeen year old.......what was this in comparison? 

Nothing! 

It was just mess. Surface disorder. 

Turning sharply, now filled with resolve, she grabbed rubber gloves from the cupboard......filled a bucket with water, squirted in a hefty whack of bleach. 

Samantha Cassidy set to......with a vengeance.....she cleaned everything from the top to the bottom. 

Every surface. Every cupboard. Minutely. Skirting boards, door frames, paintwork......

The strewn papers she gathered into a pile, to be sorted later. 

She hoovered, dusted, polished, and mopped. Then wiped everything down afterwards with bleach.

Ripping the bedcovers off the mattress, she bundled them up, put them in the washing machine and put on fresh linen. Clean towels, bathmat......

She scrubbed the bedroom carpet with '1001' until her hands ached, and no trace of blood remained. 

Like a whirling dervish. Almost manic. Furious. 

No one was going to do this to her.......or Malcolm. 

Destroy their happiness, take away their love for the home they shared. 

Blight their lives.

FUCKING NO ONE.

Every mark removed, no corner left untouched. Not so much as a cobweb, a blood spot, not a shard of broken crockery to be seen.

By the time she reached the living room, the last room she had left to tackle, she was stopped in her tracks.....

Malcolm was lying on the sofa. Knees drawn up to his chest, his hands tucked between them.

He was deeply asleep, his poor swollen face stained and streaked with dried tears. 

Shattered. 

In mind and body. 

The sight of him made her clamp her hand over her mouth, holding in a sob. The cat was with him, laying in the curve of his stomach. Protective. 

She would get him through this. She would. He would be okay, he had her, and she was strong enough for both of them. 

She knelt on the rug at his side, stroking his hair tenderly. 

"Malcolm......? Sweetie?" 

His eyes were bloodshot, the rims red and swollen, glazed and unfocused. 

"Come on.....bed's made up fresh.....let me help you.....a warm bath.....couple more hours kip, then we'll have something to eat......."

"What time is it?" He seemed confused. 

"Six." 

"Fuck!" 

"Doesn't matter Malcolm.....you need to rest. But I want to clean in here.....so how about you go up, soak in the tub.....then bed....yeah?" 

He shuffled off without another word, just as he had at his sister's house, when he went into shut down mode after collapsing in the clinic. She followed him up the stairs, her hands on the small of his back, gently guiding. 

She ran the water for him, took his clothes as he shed them, left a towel for him. 

"Don't fall asleep in there Malc......I'll come check on you in a while okay....? 

He nodded dumbly. She gave him a little kiss. 

"In you get......"

Her calm serenity mollified him. 

Lowering himself gratefully into the soothing depths. A deep sigh. 

Reassuring herself that he was alright, Sam left him to it. 

Once in the lounge again, she swept through it like a wild tornado, then, at last, satisfied that all trace of anything remotely sinister was removed, she picked up the phone. 

oOo

Within half an hour Laura and Jamie were at the door. They didn't need to knock, she was waiting by the window watching out for them. 

Only then did Sam give in. 

She needed comfort, reassurance, and her and Malcolm's closest friends were the people she most wanted to see. 

No tears, she'd cried all the tears she had inside already. 

There were none left. 

Jamie came straight into the hallway and gathered her close to him.

For some reason she hung on his neck for several moments.  
It was what she needed. 

"Where's Malc?" 

"In bed.....he looks a mess." 

"Have you eaten yet?" Laura asked, touching her shoulder gently. 

"No....that was my next task......" Sam gave a resigned sigh. 

"No need......I've bought dinner......" She held up a carrier bag which contained a lasagne. 

"Oh Laura!" Tears filled Sam's eyes. "You don't know how welcome that is......I've been cleaning for hours....we were at the police station before that.....I'm so shattered......" 

"Just needs a warm through....ten minutes.....I'll go and put the oven on." Laura went through to the kitchen. 

Sam did not let Jamie go.....thoughts of the hostage situation and the days after Malcolm's revelations in his private life loomed large in her mind. In both those situations his hug had been so welcome, just as it was now. 

"I thought they were going to kill him......they almost did......" She whispered into his collar.

"It's alright hen, I'm here.......why the fuck didn't you ring us sooner?" 

"It's all been such mayhem.....and he's hurt so badly......his poor face......and he's been so quiet, hardly said a word. Like before.....you know? I know he's mulling it all over in his mind, you know what he's like, brooding......oh god! Jamie....I was so frightened......." 

"Me and Laura'll do anything we can to help.....you know that.......?" He pulled back slightly, still keeping the contact, looking into her face gently. "He'll be fine......he will. He's strong as an ox physically.......much more than he looks.....and mentally? Well.....look what he's already been through and come out the other side....."

"Jamie, would you go and wake Malc? He ought to be ready to get up now......he's been asleep for ages." Sam asked. 

"Will do, leave it to me!" Jamie headed for the stairs, as Sam made her way to the kitchen, where Laura also gave her an affectionate hug. 

Entering the bedroom with a slight knock, Jamie crossed to the side of the bed. Malcolm's shape just a hump in the middle. 

"Malc? Pal.......wake up.....grub is ready downstairs......Malc? You okay?" 

A groan from under the duvet, and Malcolm's head emerged like a tortoise from its carapace. 

"Fucking hell!" His friend was aghast at the sight of him. "You look like you had an argument with a wrecking ball!" 

"Thanks! You should see the other fucker.....!" 

Jamie looked in horror at the state of his friend. The huge lump on his forehead, black eye, split lip, dark bruising around his neck and throat.

"Christ Malc......can't say it's much of an improvement on your matinee idol good looks......  
Listen.....the girls have dinner ready.....you coming down?" 

"Fuck you McDonald! Yeah.....okay.......did Sam call you?" 

"She did! Why didn't you fucking ring me? You could have stayed at ours last night instead of the Travel Lodge." 

"It was so late. We were knackered, by the time we'd given our statements and they let us go, wasn't functioning on all cylinders......listen, mate.....I badly need your help....."

Malcolm's fingers gripped his friend's jumper, pulling him closer, his eyes sharp and intense. 

".......I gotta secure this place.....locks, cameras, alarms.....you fucking name it.....gotta make it safe.......if it was down to me I'd have barbed wire, a control tower with a fucking Gatling gun mounted on it......" 

"Don't fret the'sel......I can do that.....I know a good security firm. I'll get it sorted for you, first thing in the morning......"

He patted Malcolm's back comfortingly. 

"..........did they nick much stuff?" 

"Fuck it Jamie......they weren't after booty....they were after information.....they knew who I was and they knew I had potentially sensitive material here.....luckily they didn't find the safe, and I didn't tell them where it was.....someone put them up to this, it was never a bog standard burglary......" 

Malcolm got up painfully and Jamie passed him his dressing gown. 

"Come down mate, we'll talk......come and eat something.....if you can, with that fucking fat lip.......!" 

oOo

Laura burst into tears when Malcolm entered the kitchen, her hands held up to her face in anguish. 

"Oh, Malcolm, what have they done to you?" She whispered. 

He was too woebegone and fuzzy to really respond. Her reaction embarrassed him. 

"I'll be right." He muttered. 

Sam sat him down and put some food before him, but he couldn't eat it. 

Not only was his mouth too sore and very painful but he had no appetite whatever. 

"I'll heat you a little soup, and liquidise the chunks out." 

He managed a few spoonfuls then pushed the bowl away. 

Jamie decided on a different tack, in an attempt to engage him. 

"So....these blokes......they knew you then?" He began. 

"Yeah. They called me by name. They were looking for files and papers....documents, discs, USB sticks, stuff like that." 

"Your dirt files?" 

"Yeah." Malcolm's eyes seemed bluer than blue. Dewy and still red around the edges. 

"Fuck! Malc, this is bad.......there aren't many people who even know you've got this shit.....the guy they caught.....the one that Sam did her _Hong Kong Phooey_ on......." He glanced at Sam and grasped her hand across the table, making her blush. "........did he say anything?" 

"Nah. He was the gopher, the backup, a petty criminal, I don't think he had much of a clue.....it was the other one that was running the show......and he got away."

"Malc.....mate, someone must know this info exists, and wants it real bad....or make sure you can't use it......who could it be do you think? And why now?" 

"Fuck knows! But it makes my head spin......." Malcolm held his head in his hands, and closed his eyes. 

".....there's only Sam here, and you, Julius knew I guess, but this isn't his modus operandi....Stuart Pearson of course......but it wouldn't be in his interest.......not sure who else....if anyone."

"It's in a safe place then? Only if it's that sensitive you should maybe transfer it to a safety deposit box at the bank......."

"I guess. I've got a safe here.....but they didn't find it. I had it put it in when I got the boot....after Fleming.....Sam copied all my files for me.....when I didn't think I'd be coming back......I was saving it for a rainy day......ammunition, in case the shit hit the fan......it's a lot of years worth......and a lot of manure I've collected over the years......all sorts.......compromising pictures, articles that never made it to press, snippets of info I've been given that I've never had cause to use......yet.......a whole lot of dirt."

Jamie frowned.

"On whom exactly?"

Malcolm demurred.

"Well if you'd rather not say......I get it......." 

"It's not that......" He replied. "......it's just........"

"I know, it's sensitive."

"No.......it's that the fewer people know the better, and the safer for them."

Sam slammed down her fork. 

"It's almost everyone you can think of." She said, shooting a glance at Malcolm. "People who were in the cabinet in the last government, Tom Rudd for one, and his bloody secretary, also members of the then opposition, particularly the Shadow Chancellor. The Chief Whip, that guy from Central Planning who beat his kids, a few civil servants, prominent back bench MP's, including Miller, a couple of peers of the realm and some newspaper people......you name them, they're probably mentioned......it was me who filed all this stuff, me who collated it, kept it, encrypted it......."

"Fucking hell Malcolm!" 

"It was my fucking insurance policy! For when the cunts fucked me over.....and they will, don't believe for one moment that they won't. My balls in a vice.....manacled to a whipping post.......plenty out there want that..... especially after I championed Nicola......Fleming and Miller were threatening to tear my foreskin off and make a purse out of it, they were so angry. I wouldn't put it past any of them....."

"Fleming wouldn't be so stupid.....he knows you'd be on to him straight away.......but Miller?  
Hmmm......he might be a possibility......what did you have on him?" 

"Statements from a rent boy.......all the naughty things they used to get up to.....apparently he used to pay him to shit on his chest.......amongst other things......it came from Pearson originally....."

Sam and Laura both pulled a face.

"Christ on a bike Malc! And what if he ever wanted to relaunch his leadership bid......? I've heard rumours, you know......and Fleming has never really gone away.....he still lurks in a coffin, hiding from the sunlight......" 

At that moment the door bell rang. 

The four looked at each other in silence. 

"If that's the police again......" Malcolm huffed. 

Sam peeped out of the living room window.

"There's no squad car." She remarked, trying to crane her neck to look at the front porch. 

"It's Nicola!" She exclaimed. 

Malcolm rose and made for the stairs. 

"I'm not at home to visitors!" He announced. 

Sam answered the door. 

"Mrs Murray!" 

Nicola stood, shuffling awkwardly, a pot plant under her arm. 

"Hello Sam. I heard about your break in. Someone told me Malcolm was taken to hospital. Is he alright? I bought this." She offered the Peace Lily with a look of sympathy. 

Sam took the plant, and stepped back slightly. 

"I'm afraid Malcolm is resting, but you're welcome to come in......."

Hearing other voices from the kitchen, Murray shook her head. 

"I can see you're busy, I won't stop.......just tell Malcolm I came. That I hope he's soon......well you know.......it was an attempted burglary I hear?" 

"A break in.....yeah. Just a random thing......thought there was no one home I suspect!" She kept her voice light, nonchalant. "Just one of those things......" 

Nicola nodded. 

"Yes. Quite. Well. I must be off. If you could tell Malcolm I called, I'd be grateful, and I'll see him when he's back at work. No doubt he'll be in touch to let me know.......?" 

"Of course. In the meantime you know where I am, if there's any crisis.....which I'm sure there won't be.....you can ring me.......I have all the appointments and schedules for the next week, I'll be in on Monday as per usual......" 

Backing away, Nicola smiled and simpered ineffectually. 

"Fine. That's grand. Good. Okay then.....I'll see you then! Thank you Sam." 

"No trouble. Goodbye, and thank you for the plant." 

She closed the door, retreating towards the kitchen. 

"It's okay Malcolm!" She called up the stairs. "She's gone!" 

"Thank fuck for that!" He came back down. 

"She bought you a plant!" Sam smiled. 

"I'd have preferred a bottle of Scotch!" 

Jamie and Laura laughed heartily.


	18. Get Away.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm is doing what Malcolm does when it all gets too much.....running away. 
> 
> Just for a bit. 
> 
> He can do that now. 
> 
> Take time. 
> 
> Sam takes special care of him!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's quite a sexy edge to this chapter. 
> 
> Malcolm still struggles a bit with telling Sam what he wants, because of his past experiences, there are things that he worries about, sexually, that he thinks might be 'kinky' or unacceptable. Sam doesn't have any such hangups! She's not controlling like his first wife was, and she wants him to derive pleasure from foreplay.  
> She's discovered some of his buttons to press....but he's still scared to tell her how much he enjoys what she does to him! 
> 
> The medication and vertigo stuff is all kosher.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.  
GET AWAY. 

For the next few nights Sam found that Malcolm was profoundly disturbed. He would wake at random times throughout the night, or couldn't get to sleep at all. 

On several occasions she woke to find him missing from his usual place beside her. Prowling the house with a torch, as if patrolling his territory. 

Many nocturnal cups of tea later, she would finally get him to settle, only for him to wake in a sweat again a couple of hours later. 

"Save me!" He whispered. 

Sam was shocked and moved by the raw honesty, more than anything he was afraid of slipping backwards, when he'd come so far. Any reversal was a defeat in his eyes, and he couldn't brook that. Leaving therapy behind had been a momentous step and he was terrified of revisiting old hurts.

She held him close, spoke softly to him as only she could. Soothing him. 

"I'm here Malcolm. Always." 

For several days he didn't leave the house. 

The security firm arranged by Jamie arrived the morning following the break in, CCTV was fitted, a state of the art alarm system, the back door was fixed, locks changed, and extra dead bolts fitted. 

The existence of the safe was not something that Malcolm had ever discussed with Sam. Not that he'd purposely kept it a secret from her.  
It had been fitted before she moved in with him, and the subject had simply never been mentioned.  
Now it's hiding place was revealed, the contents removed and Jamie accompanied her to the bank and arranged to have everything placed in a Safety Deposit box. 

Malcolm was taking no chances. 

The next morning Sam went into the office, sorted anything that needed sorting, and generally held the fort.  
Not that much was happening. Everything was strangely quiet. 

Oliver Reeder sidled into view, and was summarily dealt with. Sam Cassidy had little or no time for the smarmy ponce, but in this instance, he had his uses. She knew he saw himself as Malcolm's natural successor, she was also positive he wasn't up to the task. It would give him an inflated sense of his own importance to take over some of Malcolm's workload, but needs must. 

She spoke to Nicola. 

"We may disappear for a few days." She said. "It'll give Malcolm a chance to recover. I'm sure Ollie will be only too eager to step into Malcolm's shoes, and you've got Helen to take care of you. If any big stories break I'm sure they'll both manage, and Malcolm can work from where we are going, keep in touch with everything......."

"I can't get used to this Malcolm Tucker." She replied. "He's so different.....and holidays? I was told he hadn't been away for years.....until.....well......until recently....."

"Well, we've been away twice in just over a year.....I don't think that's excessive......priorities have changed Nicola.....we now focus on other things as well as work related stuff.....in the great scheme of things nothing is more important than your health and wellbeing, Malcolm knows that now." 

oOo

Wandering through the airport concourse Malcolm felt as if his face was painted bright fluorescent green.  
In his mind everyone was staring at him, although they probably weren't, and if they were it was only a brief glance to perhaps wonder what might have happened to him. 

His lip, forehead and black eye were beginning to go through the multicoloured stage.  
A lurid mix of purples and reds, changing to greens and yellows.  
The collar of his shirt was buttoned right to the top, in an attempt to hide the bruising there, which now partly resembled love bites, and circular finger marks, of which he was extremely self conscious.  
Short of wearing a cravat or make up however, he couldn't disguise them completely. 

"I look like I've been set upon by Count Dracula!" He complained bitterly. 

He had to admit, that getting away had been a great idea of Sam's. He felt uncomfortable in his own home at the moment, and needed some time to regain his equilibrium. Recharge the batteries. 

Sam knew. 

Running away worked for him. 

Just for a while.

He had no compunction now about taking time off. Simply didn't care as much as he had previously. 

The boards above their heads flickered. _Departure gate 112._  
Tucking his passport and boarding pass into his top jacket pocket, he set off at a brisk pace, wheeling his small hand luggage behind him. Sam had to almost run to keep up. 

Once boarded, seated, seatbelt fastened, he sat back, closed his eyes.  
The plane began to taxi. 

As it turned to face the runway, he reached for Sam's hand. Holding it tightly in his own.  
She turned to look at him, but he was pressed back against the head rest, jaw tense, the muscle there working. Eyes still shut tight. 

Taking his hand in both of hers she squeezed his fingers, then raised them to her lips and kissed them. 

"It's okay Malc......this is good.....it's all good......and you'll be fine.......I promise......" 

"Fuck!" He murmured. "Keep seeing it Sam.....every time I close my eyes...."

"Keep seeing what? The guy in the balaclava?" 

"No! You! With the poker in your hand.....looking down on me......fucking hell....."

"I'd have hit him again you know.....if he'd tried to get up.....I wouldn't have thought twice about it......he'd have killed you without a second thought.....I wasn't about to let that happen...."

"You were pretty fucking awesome you know that? Shit.....you looked like you weren't taking any fucking prisoners......you even had me scared!" 

"Well that was the idea. I didn't think Malcolm, I just knew I had to come back....I knew that if they were both on you, you didn't stand a chance, it wasn't a choice......."

He swallowed thickly, his fingers straying towards his neck subconsciously.

"Malcolm, don't think about that.....it's done.....forget it! Did you hear anymore from the detective this morning? You didn't say......" 

"Yeah, he caught up with me just before we left.....said he'd give me a ring earlier but there was nothing new to tell so he hadn't bothered. The guy they caught, the one you whacked, he knows fuck all. He was just recruited to act as bit of muscle. He's a seasoned old timer where the thieving game is concerned. Several convictions for petty theft and two for GBH....."

Sam raised her eyebrows, puffing out her cheeks.

".......said he was told we were away for the weekend, the house was empty. He wasn't informed of what the job entailed, so just thought it was a standard burglary. Didn't even know the name of his accomplice....only knew him as Bob! Was contacted on a 'pay as you go' mobile he'd been given......untraceable to source......"

Malcolm gave a sigh, as the stewardess bought the drinks trolley down the aisle.

"......just a load of fucking dead ends. It's the other one we should have caught....pity you didn't get your poker to connect with HIS skull.....then we might have known something.  
Fingerprints came up with zilch.....he wore gloves......blood type O neg.......along with half the fucking populace.....DNA didn't match with anyone on the data base. So basically they've got nothing. But he was hired Sam......they both were......it's pretty obvious." 

Reaching over the arm rest, Sam placed a kiss on his brow.

"Well, let's enjoy a few days break, away from all the shit, your lip isn't so sore now so you can at least eat.....we'll enjoy a glass of vino......we'll chill out.....not analyse it too much.....don't let the fuckers get us down......okay?" She nudged his elbow. "Okay Malcolm?" 

"Yeah! Okay!" He turned and gave her a quirky lop sided smile. Fuck! But she loved him so much!  
Resting her head against his shoulder she drifted off to sleep. 

oOo

Once they reached their hotel and were shown to their room, Malcolm explored a little, poking into every cubby hole and drawer, checking out the mini bar, the fruit bowl, the complimentary decanter, his beaky nose and sharp eyes taking it all in. 

Sam observed this ritual with mute amusement. 

He drew back the curtains and stepped out onto their small terrace area leading onto a garden which sloped downwards, giving a view out to sea. 

Palm trees swayed. Swallows still swooped overhead. It was warm and pleasant. 

Fucking paradise. 

Hands on hips he let out a long slow puff of air, letting his shoulders sag downwards. 

Yes, Malcolm could do this now. 

Be on holiday. Forget stuff. 

He still didn't care for beaches, but he liked a nice restaurant, a glass of wine, perhaps a pool. 

Enjoyed slopping around in a pair of shorts and some flip flops. A shady spot to sit, with a coffee, maybe even a spa treatment if there was one available.

As long as Sam wasn't far away, he could embrace the whole thing. 

Let it wash over him. 

Sam watched as her man visibly relaxed. It was like the air slowly escaping from a balloon with a hole in it.  
The tightness in the jaw dissipated, his breathing slowed, eyes less fierce, his whole body losing the strained, wired tension it had held since the burglary. 

A gentle breeze ruffled the net curtain as he returned to the room, dumped everything down and collapsed onto the bed.  
Large, soft, comfortable, cosy bed. 

He yawned, scratching his scalp, then held out his arms. 

"Sam? Please?" He said softly, giving her those startlingly frank eyes.....nothing held back, a silent begging. 

She smiled, joined him, and was enveloped in a crushing hug as her reward. 

They hadn't made love since the break in. 

This was a point of some distress to him, but he felt dead from the waist down. 

It had been the last thing on either of their minds, snuggling close was all they needed or could manage. 

Malcolm's brain remained clogged and fuzzy for a couple of days, the tinnitus in his ears was both annoying and wearing. A constant ringing sound. Like bells in his head.  
Now he was suffering from a mild labyrinthitis. Probably exacerbated by the cabin pressure on the flight.  
It made him woozy and unsteady on his feet at times, a faint nausea or queasiness. Especially if he went in the lift or on an escalator. 

Sam had also noticed how sleepy he was, and had sought reassurance from Malcolm's doctor.  
Assured that the symptoms would pass in time, she was at least more easy in her mind, but she found herself observing him carefully.  
Fervently hoping that these days away would effect a cure. 

"Feeling any better?" She asked, her voice muffled against his shirt. 

"I guess." 

"That means you're not then?" 

"Head still feels like I've got straw inside it......stuffed and thick and lots of rustling going on!  
And my ears.......fucking hell.......it's like I'm permanently pissed, or on _Tramadol_......I can't fucking focus....." 

"It'll pass Malc.......just give it time. If you go swimming you'd better wear earplugs to keep the water out. Did the doc give you any tablets.......?" 

"Yeah.....I'll fucking rattle if I take any more! It's _Prochlorperazine_.....it's 'sposed to stop me feeling sick, and help the vertigo......but I read the blurb and it's an anti-psychotic, it blocks your dopamine receptors.......renders me fucking flaccid.....I'm like an uncooked chipolata sausage!" 

Sam began to laugh, in spite of her deep sympathy for him. 

"It's not permanent Malcolm! Don't worry about it! You're not impotent. It'll come back! You'll just have to be patient." 

"But Sam! Holiday sex! Holiday sex is the best sex.......I'd rather have the vertigo than not feel like fucking you!" 

She sat up, holding his gaze, turning his face towards her. 

"Listen to me! It doesn't matter! Get well. Feel better. Then we can have all the sex you want.....okay? Going without will make it all the nicer when we DO make love......it's not a problem!" 

"If you say so!" He huffed, and drew her into his side again, closing his eyes in surrender. 

oOo

 

In bed, Malcolm was a 'curler'.  
He usually slept on his side with his knees bent up in the foetal position. Sam either snuck in behind his body, her knees tucked behind his, or he would do the same to her.  
If he was facing her, he would draw her in close to him and wrap himself around her like an octopus, his legs dovetailed with hers, her face against his chest. 

Sleeping in this huge hotel bed, they tended to end up in the middle, an empty foot of mattress on either side.  
This morning, however, she was quite surprised to find that Malcolm was flat on his back, resembling a stranded starfish.  
Legs akimbo, arms splayed out at his sides. 

He'd slept right through the night, no bad dreams, no waking, no getting up, not even to pee. 

Propping herself up on one elbow she observed him fondly.

His lip was healing well, although she was certain he'd be left with a tiny scar. The bruising around his eye was also rapidly turning to a greenish splodge around the socket and cheekbone, the white around the iris inside gradually losing its murky bloodshot appearance.

It was his head that worried her most. Here, the lump had not even diminished, remaining purple and angry looking, sticking out from the side of his brow like a golf ball. The neck too, still showed telltale finger marks, minuscule dots of petechiae just under the surface of his skin, with larger patches of purpura under his Adam's apple and around the sides beneath his ears. 

As she looked down on him, his forehead seemed to furrow slightly, as it did when he was deep in thought, he stirred and gave a little whimpering noise, his hand feeling the sheet at his side, reaching out blindly for her.

Bringing her fingers up, she began to stroke across his brow ridge gently. His breath hitched for a moment, then continued, slow and measured.  
Just a light touch, up as far as his hairline then down the side of his cheek. Ghosting across the line of his mouth sutures to his rough chin.  
After a few moments, she made to lay down at his side again.

"Don't stop!" He murmured. "It's nice."

Smiling, she reached over his body and placed a small kiss against his lips. 

"Mmmm!" The sound rumbled deep in his throat. 

"Feeling better this morning, after a good night's sleep?" 

"Mmm hmm!" His eyes remained closed, but a tiny smile played across his lips.

Smoothing down towards his collarbones and across his chest, she leaned in closer. 

"Tell me how you're feeling....." She whispered softly. 

"Warm. Comfortable. Safe." He mumbled, as she continued her caress, lingering around his nipples.

"And....?"

"Relaxed. Rested. Happy." His breathing changed slightly, his sternum rising and falling just a little quicker. 

"Keep going...."

"Floating. Oh fuck, Sam.....!" Her hand was at his naval now, circling carefully, just to the line of his pubic hair but no lower. 

"Tell me what you'd like....." Her tone was inviting, drawing him out of himself, that knack she had of making him feel surrounded by her, wrapped in a blanket of love, a sensation of falling but in the most pleasant way. 

"I'd like.....I'd like......" A tear squeezed out from under his closed lids, it trickled down towards his ear, as he lay, struggling with himself and his emotions. 

"Shhhh! Malcolm.......let it go! Don't fight. Just tell me......" 

He swallowed it down, valiantly attempting to stay relaxed and keep his mind clear, to reach that nirvana which Sam seemed to be able to bring him to, almost effortlessly, and always had, right from the beginning....her touch seemingly like balm, her voice at once soothing, arousing, yet calming and mollifying.

"Can't....." He choked back a sob. 

Beneath her she could feel his body trembling with suppressed desire. 

"Yes, you can......I want to know and I want to hear you say it.......deep breaths, keep those eyes closed. Lose yourself, give in.....surrender to it Malcolm......doesn't matter what it is......let your mind wander where it will.....and tell me what you'd most like......" 

"You.....I'd like you......" Calmer now, but tears streaming from the corners of both eyes, unable to stop them. 

"You have me. All of me. I'm here......." 

He focused on her fingers, the feel of them on his skin, places where he was most sensitive, forced himself to shut out everything else, screwing his eyes tight. 

"Want you to touch me.....fuck.....Sam.....it's.....it's weird......what I want.....it's fucked up....."

"Say it......." 

He shook his head firmly, pursing his lips tightly together.

"Shall I tell you? Shall I guess what I think you'd like.....? If I'm wrong, you can say......" 

Her face was above him now, he could feel her breath warm on his cheek, but her hand movements didn't cease. 

He nodded vigorously, with a little mewling sound, as his thoughts and fantasies took shape. 

"You'd like me to lavish all my attention between your legs...." Her voice was like silk, salacious, and so sexual he could hardly breathe.

".....you'd like me to tease you. You'd like the feel of my tongue against your prick, my lips kissing it, you'd like me to take you into my mouth and suck you, lick you, feel me adore you, preferably on my knees.......bring you so close that you feel that tickle deep inside, like you're going to explode, maybe you'd even like to come all over my breasts, or in my mouth, have me swallow you down.....am I getting warmer.....?" 

He nodded, a catch in his throat. 

"Perhaps you're thinking afterwards you'd like to fuck me.....hard and fast.....watch me come, just for you, because of you, hear me moan your name out loud as you pulse inside me, feel how much I need you, love you and want you.......buried deep......shit.....I need it too Malc, I fucking ache for you, I've missed you, missed being penetrated by you...."

"Christ! Really? Fuck! Sam......how do you even?.....you'd do what I want? I'm so sorry.....I'm fucking depraved....." 

"Hush! Malcolm!" She whispered soothingly, calming him again. "You are the least depraved person I know.....never be afraid to tell me what you want.....what you most desire.....especially not if it gives you pleasure.....I'd be honoured to give you what you'd like....." 

Her hand closed around his manhood as she spoke, he was already so ragingly hard from her words that he sucked in a breath, trying to hold back the tide of emotion. 

"Never thought I'd want anything like that.....so help me.....it used to make me feel weird.....sick even, but when you did it before.....on the beach......" 

"You enjoyed it?" 

"Yeah! Fuck......." 

"Then lie back Malcolm......keep your eyes closed.......let your thoughts focus, I'm going to give you the best blow-job of your entire life!" 

"Oh sweet Jesus!"


	19. Fucked.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the last day of Malcolm's restorative break. 
> 
> He gets a surprise. 
> 
> Back at the office, all hell breaks lose. He receives a warning from Angela Heaney. 
> 
> Malcolm is flung back into the shitstorm, and things are soon just as they'd been before he got together with Sam, manic. 
> 
> Nicola has made a huge mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The basis for this chapter is taken from this article.....
> 
> http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/2016/02/18/trident-opposition-a-suicide-mission-for-labour-warns-ex-communications-director_n_9261364.html
> 
> Lance Price was basically Malcolm Tucker. (To the Blair government.) (a great deal has been said about Malcolm being based on Alistair Campbell, but Peter always denied that was wholly the case). He may not have been shouty sweary, but the job he did as Director of Communications, was pretty much Malcolm's role, particularly when he was in power. 
> 
> I've used it really, to illustrate how Nicola might engineer her own downfall. 
> 
> (The article 'Murray Unelectable' is the one Malcolm shows Ollie when he visits him in hospital in the show....written by Fleming) 
> 
> As far as Miller is concerned I have absolutely no doubt that he would trample his own grandmother underfoot to get the Leadership job. Right from the first time his name is mentioned in the show, once Hugh is out of the way, we get the impression he's a dangerous threat. Ruthless and smarmy in equal measure. 
> 
> The last episode of season four, before Malcolm goes to get himself arrested, we hear him asking Sam to get hold of Greg Fraser, then we hear Dan Miller, saying, "we need to drop Malcolm." He does it without any compunction whatever. Nothing must be allowed to stand in the way of his ambitions.
> 
> But just how far would he go? That is the question. 
> 
> A couple of other notes.....Theydon Bois is an upmarket suburban area just outside London, near Epping, in Essex. 
> 
> Cannon and Ball, were a well known Northern comedy duo, straight man and clown, a sort of 1970/80's Laurel and Hardy.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.  
FUCKED.

The lady in the spa was a dear. An experienced masseuse, not one of the mimsy youngsters they sometimes have at beauty therapy places. 

So concerned at the sight of Malcolm's face when he went for his massage. 

In broken Portuguese she fussed over him, making the sign of the cross, evoking the saints, and crying, _"céus misericordiosos!"_ when he gave her a brief resumé of what had befallen him. 

After his treatment, Malcolm emerged thoroughly pummelled and boneless, clutching a small pot of ointment.  
She swore it had therapeutic properties, contained aloe vera and arnica to aid the healing process with the bruising. Much to his chagrin, and in spite of enormous scepticism, it certainly seemed to help. The result being that the marks around his neck and on his head began to fade gradually.

It was their final evening. 

Flight home the following day. 

Malcolm was ready to be reintroduced to polite society!

Sam was sitting on their terrace reading her book, in her dressing gown, prior to dressing for dinner.  
Malcolm was in the shower.

A sharp tap on the door. 

Sam opened it, to admit a smart waiter, bearing a tray.  
It contained a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket, two flutes, and a bowl of fresh strawberries. 

Emerging from the bathroom, also in a robe, vigorously towelling his hair, Malcolm looked askance. 

"Did you organise this?" Sam asked him, in surprise. 

"Me? Nope......." He reached for the tray, as it was set down. "........there's a card........" 

Once the waiter had been tipped and shown out, Malcolm took the envelope in his long fingers and examined it with a smile. 

_"TIME TO GET BACK TO WORK YOU LAZY FUCKERS!"_

_"Enjoy your last night on us!"_

_"Lots of love Jamie and Laura. Xxxxxx"_

He roared with laughter. 

"Wait till I ring him!" He said. 

"What a lovely thought! How sweet of them!" Sam clasped her arms around his middle, he cuddled her and kissed her hair. 

"Well, we'd best make the most of it!" He smiled, releasing her, grabbing the bottle and popping the cork with his thumbs. Sam held a flute nearby, ready to catch any stray fizz. 

"Cheers!" They clinked glasses, and came together in a deep kiss. 

"Don't wanna fucking go back!" Malcolm whispered, as they parted. 

"Home? Or work?" She responded, looking up at him, over the rim. 

"Work. I've had it Sam.....I'm sick of the whole thing.....it just isn't important to me anymore." 

"Then leave." 

"All I need is an excuse!" He took another sip and swallowed, feeling the bubbles on his tongue. 

"Then make one!" She replied firmly. "Make one, and jack it all in. Don't do it for me.....do it for yourself......"

"Can't! It's all I fucking know."

"Go before you're pushed........do it Malcolm......." 

"I just might! I just fucking might." He said. 

oOo

 

It was as if they'd never been away. 

Back to the fuck office! 

Waiting for Malcolm on his desk was a message from Angela Heaney. 

He called her first thing. 

"Hiya love.....wassup!" 

"Malcolm! Hi! How are you doing?" 

"Good. Didn't you know.....I'm like one of those fucking _'Weebles'_......you knock me down and I just stand right back up again! ......what's going on?" 

"God knows! But Fleming's been in Malcolm.......there's going to be a massive story breaking......soon......have you heard about the Trident thing......?" 

"What Trident thing?" 

"Your Nicola Murray. She was heard to say, at a Trades Union dinner last night, that she would consider fighting the next General Election on a Nuclear Disarmament platform......" 

"Oh for fucks sake! And someone picked up on it?" 

"Well, yeah......she was talking to my opposite number at The Telegraph.....but that's not the thing.......Miller and Fleming have jumped on it......." 

"FUCK!" 

"Word is, the article is gonna be front page...... _"Murray unelectable......"_ or words to that effect......The Telegraph will go to town on it......there's gonna be a leadership challenge Malc.......sure as eggs is eggs......you're going to be wallowing in the middle of a vat of sewage.........just wanted to give you the heads up....." 

"I appreciate it Ange.....thanks darl........" 

"No worries......bye Malc......oh, and Malc? Watch your back......those two are gunning for you.....they hate your bloody guts, and if they can hold your head under in the shit, they will........we got an anonymous tip off two days ago, when we ran the story of your 'break in'.......Dan has been talking to Pearson.....threatened him apparently, trying to get information......and HE knows all about your rent boy dirt. So Miller definitely knows now......would do anything he could to get his hands on it, discredit it, or better still, lose it completely......as I say.....be careful Malc......"

"Will do! You're a diamond! Bye love." 

oOo

Nicola's head poked round the office door.

"Dare I enter? Or am I to be suitably admonished?" 

"Fucking get in here!" Malcolm stood, and walked around to the front of his desk.

"Well, you've fucking done it this time! What on God's Earth possessed you.....?" 

"Malcolm! Don't lose it! I didn't know who he was....I've never met him......"

The Tucker face was incredulous. 

"Don't recognise the Editor of the rag that has the potential to fuck you up the arse? Jesus Christ!" 

"He tricked me......."

"Tricked you is it? The nasty man tricked you? What have I said to you in the past about putting badges on everyone you meet, with a tick or a cross on them, so that you know who not to talk to? Fucking fuck me!" 

"Ollie said he'd deal with it!" 

"Oh! Well that's alright then!" Malcolm stormed up and down the room, then turned on her with a rictus grin. "Fucking Ollie.....the knitted scarf! Holy fuck, I have a few days away.....what could possibly go wrong, I think? What could Nicola fucking Murray possibly do that could cause more than a ripple in the corridors of power? What could she say that could show everyone just what a complete fucking SHAG SHOW she is? Eh? Eh?" 

"It's not that bad surely?" Nicola slumped down in the chair. 

"NOT THAT FUCKING BAD? It couldn't be fucking worse! Do you know what you've done? You've just given your enemy the fuel he needs to knock you off your fucking perch....Polly......!  
Consigned yourself to the parrot cage of infamy......with a sprig of millet, and a mirror with a bell on to peck at with your beak for all eternity!" 

"Oh bollocking bollocks!" She groaned. 

"This is just what Fleming has been waiting for! To get at you.....to get at me! Straight into the gladiatorial arena.....you and me......to face the lions......with nothing but a biro and a fucking Blackberry! He and Miller.......Cannon and fucking Ball. First they will tie you down and fuck you from ear'oles to breakfast time.....then they'll take me and rip my bollocks off, stuff them into my mouth and make me sing boy soprano in the choir." 

"But he asked me what I believe in.......did I want a Nuclear free world.......? What could I say? I couldn't lie......it IS what I want......I couldn't press 'the button' Malcolm......I couldn't be elected and say I would, because I wouldn't......" 

"Right. Well. That's clear then. You've just committed political suicide, and you've just consigned the Party to the wilderness for the next ten fucking years at least......other than that it's all good!" 

At that moment his phone chirruped.

It was Sam.

"I've just had The Telegraph on....they want a statement Malcolm.....they want to know what's going on. Is Nicola going to run in the next election on a disarmament mandate? Is she for cancelling Trident? What is her stance on Britain's nuclear deterrent and her foreign policy? I've had other press on too......and the Opposition Chief Whip wants to see her......." 

Malcolm picked up and hurled his breakfast bagel, which was uneaten on a plate on his desk, at the wall. It hit just below the picture frames, and hung there, suspended. Smoked salmon dangling down. 

"RIGHT! Fuck! Tell them I'll give a statement shortly.....tell them......tell them....Mrs Murray will be holding a press conference later today, to clarify her stance. Tell them to go fuck themselves with the fat end of a snooker cue for all I care.......just get rid of them for now.....okay.....?" 

"Okay Malcolm. Will do......oh and Malcolm....?" 

"What the fuck is it?" 

"I love you......." She clicked off before he could reply. 

oOo

_**"This is the BBC Lunchtime news, with me, Hugh Edwards....."** _

_"A major row was sparked today between opposing factions in The Opposition. It is set to cause a potential split in the Party amongst those who support Mrs Nicola Murray, the current leader, who is said to be championing a move to cancel Trident, and those who would prefer Mr Daniel Miller, the prominent and vocal back bench MP, popular with the Members, although less so with the electorate, who does not hold with a Unilateral Disarmament policy for The United Kingdom."_

_"Mr Miller, this morning, made a statement....."_

_"Whilst I fully understand everything Mrs Murray stands for, and admire her brave, if somewhat misguided, views. I have to say that the number of job loses that would be incurred, and the potential threat to this country in the light of Terrorist attacks and the ever present menace from those who would wish us harm, would make it impossible for me to continue to endorse her as leader._  
_Of course, I have no aspirations or ambitions in that regard, but were it to become incumbent upon me, to place myself in the difficult position of responsibility, I would feel it my duty to put myself forward. If it were the will of the members and for the good of the country as a whole, then I would reluctantly bow to that pressure and perhaps reconsider my position."_

_**Interviewer** : "So does this mean you are going to mount a leadership challenge, Mr Miller?" _

_"Nothing is further from my thoughts at this present time......."_

_**Interviewer:** "But surely, if Mrs Murray no longer has the support of the Members, how can she possibly hope to win over the electorate?" _

_"Mrs Murray has ably lead the Party for close on two years, she has done stirling work in a difficult and volatile time, and I'm sure she would not pursue a course that would alienate the voters, or her friends in the Shadow Cabinet. That's all I have to say for now......thank you so much....."_

Malcolm clicked off the TV remote with a sigh, and sat back in his chair. Leaning into the embrace of Sam who stood directly behind him.

"Are we fucked?" She asked, nuzzling his neck. 

"Yep! She's on a fucking suicide mission. She's got a grenade in her knickers and she's already pulled the pin." 

Malcolm stood up, turned in her arms and held her close. 

"She's standing at the top of the stairs with a noose round her neck, Sam.....tied to the banisters, and she's wobbling on a three legged stool.....Miller's gonna come along and kick it out from under her......guhhh!" 

He mimed the rope pulled tight around her neck, made the sound of choking. 

".....and she'll take me down with her......all of us.......so yeah......I'd say we were pretty fucked....." 

oOo

Malcolm Tucker was like the little boy with his finger in the dyke. 

Holding back a tide of shit. 

All the papers had pounced on Nicola's comments at the Trades Union dinner. ITV and BBC had cameras permanently camped outside both Malcolm's house and the Norman Shaw buildings, along with Sky News, Fox and anyone else you cared to name. 

Besieged. 

No escape. 

Nicola has effectively gone to ground, with her wank of a husband and her four ghastly progeny. Holed up in rural Suffolk. 

Miller was suddenly on every radio show, in every Sunday supplement....featured in all the Red Top's.  
Flavour of the month.  
Always professing loyalty and humility, whilst at the same time insinuating and undermining the leadership. 

Malcolm knew that somewhere in darkest Theydon Bois, Steve Fleming was cackling evilly over a simmering cauldron, and there was fuck all he could do about it. 

His only respite was in the arms of the woman he loved. 

Days of work, work, work. 

Missed meals, sleepless nights. 

Malcolm was wired again. Just as he was before he and Sam really got together, when he spent all night in his office, asleep with his face on the desk. Sustained by trays of snacks, Red Bull and fucking Fanta.  
Sam indulged him.....kept him fed, kept him sane, but only because she was certain these days were finite. 

Once their front door was closed at the end of each day, she drew him in. 

Held him close. 

Hushed his fears and insecurities. 

Loved him. 

Simply that. 

But he was cornered, and a cornered Malcolm was a scary and dangerous thing. Claws would come out.  
Teeth would be bared. Snarling and snapping like a Jack Russell terrier.  
That ruthless streak. 

The instinct for self preservation strong. 

One thing was abundantly clear. 

Supporting Nicola Murray was unsustainable. 

She had to go.


	20. God's and Monsters.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm is competitive.....but always loses. 
> 
> Sam knows that the end is nigh from the POV of the work situation. 
> 
> Malcolm's days are numbered. 
> 
> She also reaches a momentous decision.......but doesn't know how to break it to him.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter. I chose to end it here, because I've reached a point where the narrative ties in with the show. (Series Four) and we all know what happens next!!
> 
> It also includes a prompt I was sent by @flydye88 on tumblr, which was wonderful and I felt would be perfect to fit into this chapter. 
> 
> "I have a prompt for you if you are interested. Malcolm and Sam play paper, rock, scissor on multiple occasions and Sam always wins. What would Malcolm do if he won once."
> 
> The title of this piece comes from the Lana Del Ray song, which fits with the chapter really well. 
> 
> "Gods & Monsters"
> 
> In the land of Gods and Monsters  
> I was an Angel  
> Living in the garden of evil  
> Screwed up, scared, doing anything that I needed  
> Shining like a fiery beacon
> 
> You got that medicine I need  
> Fame, Liquor, Love give it to me slowly  
> Put your hands on my waist, do it softly  
> Me and God, we don't get along so now I sing
> 
> No one's gonna take my soul away  
> I'm living like Jim Morrison  
> Headed towards a fucked up holiday  
> Motel sprees sprees and I'm singing  
> 'Fuck yeah give it to me this is heaven, what I truly  
> Want'  
> It's innocence lost  
> Innocence lost
> 
> In the land of Gods and Monsters  
> I was an Angel  
> Looking to get fucked hard  
> Like a groupie incognito posing as a real singer  
> Life imitates art
> 
> You got that medicine I need  
> Dope, shoot it up, straight to the heart please  
> I don't really wanna know what's good for me  
> God's dead, I said 'baby that's alright with me'
> 
> No one's gonna take my soul away  
> I'm living like Jim Morrison  
> Headed towards a fucked up holiday  
> Motel sprees sprees and I'm singing  
> 'Fuck yeah give it to me this is heaven, what I truly  
> Want'  
> It's innocence lost  
> Innocence lost
> 
> When you talk it's like a movie and you're making me  
> Crazy -  
> Cause life imitates art  
> If I get a little prettier can I be your baby?  
> You tell me, "life isn't that hard"
> 
> No one's gonna take my soul away  
> I'm living like Jim Morrison  
> Headed towards a fucked up holiday  
> Motel sprees sprees and I'm singing  
> 'Fuck yeah give it to me this is heaven, what I truly  
> Want'  
> It's innocence lost  
> Innocence lost

GODS AND MONSTERS.

It made Sam laugh, how competitive Malcolm was. For some reason especially with her.

When, and if, they played board games, or cards, or anything really, he desperately wanted to win.  
What was so amusing was, that he seldom did.

At Monopoly she would clean him out! Bankrupt, penniless, his properties mortgaged to the hilt. She tonked him at poker too.  
Similarly at his nephew's XBox, where she royally trounced him on the various occasions he deigned to pick up the controller. In fact he was completely clueless.  
They even played badminton together once......she would dink the shuttlecock just over the net, out of reach, and if he lurched forward to thwart her, she'd lob him, he got so frustrated he broke his racket.

So when, each time they duelled at rock-paper-scissors, and he was beaten comprehensively, yet again, every fucking time, he swore that if he ever won.......just once.......Sam would get _'what for_ '......he never specified what, _'what for_ ' entailed..........but the anticipation made her giggle.

"Malcolm it's your turn to do a food shop!"

"Fucks sake! Can't you go? I'm fucking fed up! And I'm busy!"

"No! You're not busy at all, you're sitting there, huffing and doing nothing whatever! And being fed up is not an excuse! I've got a class at half eleven.....it'll only take you one hour......go Malcolm! Do it! The list is on the side."

"I'll do you rock-paper-scissors for it!"

"You'll lose Malc. You always do."

They did it.

Malcolm stared down at his balled fist, and then at Sam's outstretched flat hand.

"Told you!" She sniggered.

"For fucks sake! One day......one. fucking. day!"

"But it is not this day........go shopping Malcolm.......it'll take your mind off things, and don't forget the recyclable bags!"

She left the house, still laughing.

oOo

Nicola Murray had turned into Malcolm's worst fucking nightmare.

Despite the initial overwhelming support from the party membership, to whom she was apparently their darling, her colleagues in the House were now not nearly so keen.

She lacked the killer instinct. The strength of character. When meeting the great and the good, and in spite of Malcolm's careful coaching, she was often flustered, tongue tied and struggled to sound convincing when arguing a point.

Then the Trident debacle broke. 

The Miller cabal reared its ugly head once again.

It was no secret that Malcolm loathed Dan Miller. The feeling was entirely mutual.  
The fact that Steve Fleming hoisted his flag on the mast alongside the oily fucktard, and that he was sure the break in at his home was connected to them, also had something to do with the Tucker hostility.

As far as Malcolm was concerned Fleming was poison. The lowest of the low.  
Smarmy and simpering, just like the MP with whom he'd cast his lot.

Malcolm referred to them in private, mainly to Sam, as _'messrs slick'_ and _'creepy'._  
Joined at the hip. In cahoots.  
Nothing would please Steve more, than ousting the candidate once firmly backed by Malcolm Tucker, and finishing Malcolm's career at the same time.

It was also a sad fact that Malcolm himself no longer truly believed Mrs Murray was the leader his party needed, she just didn't have it in her.  
The inner fire, the passion.

That _'yummy mummy'_ epithet was beginning to become a noose by which to hang her. She was also saddled with a husband who was a manipulative tosser and children who were belligerent, arrogant and/or laboriously dull.

She was still, however, the lesser of two evils, the alternative being so abhorrent that Malcolm's hand had been forced.  
He'd had no choice but to support her leadership campaign, in fact he almost singlehandedly engineered it.  
Whilst dealing with the nuclear fallout which surrounded the revelations in his private life, Malcolm had received an awful lot of positive press coverage.  
The fact that his might was behind her, was partly, if not wholly, why Nicola won the leadership race in the first place and had survived thus far.  
Public sympathy for Malcolm Tucker had been enormous.

His dignity throughout proceedings won him much praise.

Almost two years on though, the natives were becoming restless.

Stirrings and murmurs of dissent in the ranks.

Malcolm was hard pressed.

A leadership challenge would soon be launched. It was inevitable.

Clearly a two horse race again.  
This time, however, things would not be so clear cut. Stakes were higher.

It was a case of _'Malcolm in the Middle._ '

Effectively he could be fucked either way......support Nicola, she loses.....he's out.

Throw in his lot with the 'enemy'.......they win......they immediately ditch him.

Fucked.

No way back.

Sam could see a meltdown on the horizon.

Building up.

Long hours. Disturbed nights. Not eating well. Stressed to bursting point.

 

oOo

Sweat soaked the back of his grey marl T shirt.

He'd cycled until his legs turned to jelly.

Seated now, still on the bike saddle, gazing idly about. Puffing like a steam kettle.

Gym.

Spa hotel.

Where he'd been cajoled into booking a night, because he'd fucking lost again.

As soon as his two outstretched fingers clashed with her balled fist, he was certain, inescapeable, he would have to cede. To the victor, the spoils.

"For fucks sake!"

How did he always lose?

"Good!" Sam was triumphant. "Now ring and book it......The Lees. Overnight! Dinner at eight fifteen and a massage each. You're paying!"

He might rail against it, but he needed it......and he knew it.

It was a measure of his faith in their relationship that he would even consent to do this kind of thing now. Win or lose.

Fuck healthy living!

Not being allowed his phone though, was like having a limb amputated.

Right now however, his attention was pleasantly distracted, through the glass partition to the left of his bike, to where a Pilates class was taking place.  
All women.

He could spy Sam, at the back. Black Lycra leggings, sports bra, a pink crop top. Hair wound into a topknot.

She was bending over, arse in the air.

Malcolm tilted his head to one side and mused.

What a great backside she had! Great body generally. Looked after it of course. She did yoga and Pilates every week.  
Amazingly supple.

So fucking young. It still worried him. Although it seemed to bother him less now, and her, not at all. 

She'd even taught him some of her exercises, and the breathing, to help him relax. Although he hated to admit it, either to himself or her, they worked.  
Switched him off.

Graceful movements.......she was balanced on one foot now.  
Perfectly.  
Eyes closed. Hands palm up.

Focused.

Centred.

Fucking unbelievable woman!

Malcolm left the cycle and towelled off.

After a shower he padded through to the treatment room. In spongy white mule slippers and a soft fat towelling robe.

These robes were never quite long enough for his liking. Okay if you were five foot five. Malcolm was every inch of six foot. Just reached to his knee!

Not that anyone took a blind bit of notice of him.

Full body massage.

Fuck.....but it wasn't the same when it was a therapist. Pleasant though she was.

Malcolm relished the feel of Sam's hands moving over his skin.  
Pressure just right.  
Sensual.  
He could zone out completely.....surrender..........give in to the touch of her fingers and the mesmeric sound of her voice. When she talked to him. Turned him on.  
They'd abandoned the blindfold though.....Malcolm just couldn't hack it. It was too much, it made him panicky.

But here, in the dim light, with soft music and whale noises rippling in the background, the scent of ylang-ylang, or whatever the fuck it was, he never quite managed the same level of calm as he did at home.

Emerging an hour later, nevertheless stupefied, he found the object of all his desires relaxing on a lounger. Beside the pool.  
Her nose in a glossy magazine.

The look she gave him as she spotted him shuffling towards her was completely overwhelming. Her face breaking into the warmest smile. It never failed to make his heart give a lurch. To think the sight of him made her eyes light up like that.  
So incredibly humbling.

She closed the magazine and stood up.

"Hello sweetie......crikey.....you look half asleep.......wanna go up for a nap?"

He nodded dumbly.

She took his hand. He followed with numb obedience.

Back to their room, where he curled up gratefully on the big comfortable bed, still in his robe, and she covered his feet gently with a blanket.

"Sleep Malc.......it'll do you the world of good."

"Only if you stay........" His eyes were languid with weariness, the lids heavy.

She kissed him with such tenderness it made him swallow hard.

"Course I'll stay! If you want me to....."

"Yeah. Please love."

Settling herself at his side, drawing his head against her breast, she began to stroke her fingers through his hair.

He hummed a contented murmur, snuggling closer.

"Fuck.....Sam.....so tired."

"Rest then. Let it go, Malc. Whatever happens at work, it doesn't really matter......not in the great scheme of things. We have this. Forget about them all......just for a while. Shut your eyes."

In seconds he was gone.

Deep and regular breathing. Body becoming heavy against her as he finally let go.

oOo

Sam knew.

The end was not far away.

She'd felt it for a while now.

Events were closing in, jackals circling, and she also knew his heart just wasn't in it anymore.

Everything changed for him, that day in Faversham's office.

Momentous day.

The day the whole sorry saga of his past abuse poured out of him. How much and how long he'd suffered because of it.

Nothing would ever be the same again. Because, truthfully, he just really didn't care anymore.

Not in the same way at least. His demeanour was altered. The fire wasn't there, the eagerness, the fight. The change in him was marked.

What difference did it really make to him if Miller took over, if he was even elected Prime Minister?

None.

But no.  
That wouldn't happen.  
Malcolm knew that as surely as he knew anything. It was true that many now thought Nicola Murray was unelectable, but Miller was no substitute.  
He may well wheedle his way into the Leadership role, but he would never win over the electorate in a General Election.

They simply didn't trust him.

The party would be consigned to the political doldrums for years.

Sam sat up, propping herself on one elbow, watching him.

He was very deeply asleep.

Finally.

His face in slumber quite different from the waking man. His jaw slack, brow furrows smoothed out.  
A gentle face.  
Almost kindly. A tiny scar still visible on his lip. 

Not at all vicious or mean.  
No swearing, no defence mode. No angry sharp eyes.  
The fierce stare hidden. Attack mode disengaged.

Allowing her fingers to brush over his forehead, he stirred slightly, breaths shortening, then lengthening again.

She loved him so very much.

Wasn't sure he was aware just exactly what he meant to her.

Not sure she'd even realised herself until that very moment.  
Looking down on him.

At peace.

_Knowing for certain that she never wanted to be with anyone else._

oOo

The office was full of people, milling about.

Nicola, sitting, head in hands.

"Don't you realise, I'm your fucking fairy godfather, right!" Malcolm paced.

"I'm your fairy fucking godfather. I haven't got a magic wand that I can wave about......." He continued.

"I've got a fucking Blackberry and a chiv. You've got a decision to make......you make it. Talk to you later!"

With a wave of his hand Malcolm swept from the room.

Sam hovered outside.

"Fucking woman! Now she reckons she doesn't even want to run, I've got a potential campaign up and coming, and a candidate who is arse spraying mayhem in fear of the Miller machine. What the fuck am I supposed to do?"

"Is there no one else? Another suitable candidate......someone we can at least rely on?" Her voice sounded more hopeful than she felt.

"Well.....there's Blinky Ben the Swain Meister.........'digi-Ben'.......Ben Dover.......fucking Ben-dy Bus......now, can you see the Electorate rushing to the polls to put their cross in the box for that twat?"

Sam pulled a face.

"EXACTLY!" As he spoke he popped a can of Red Bull and took a long draft.

They were interrupted by the arrival of Ollie Reeder. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, cheeks flushed red with excitement.

"Malcolm....have you heard the latest Government debacle? It's all over the news....."

Malcolm turned on his colleague with a withering look.

"You mean the selling off of key-worker housing?"

Reeder looked deflated for a moment. Clearly his news was not as revelatory as he'd thought.

"That nurse guy has been made homeless....he's set himself up in a tent outside the Council Offices, to protest!"

"I know! I saw. He's been offered alternative housing.....but he's refused it......I wouldn't touch the story with a barge pole. It's political shit slinging, the government are picking on a guy with a history of depression, it stinks, nothing can be gained from using it, it'll end in tears, mark my words."

Ollie demurred.

"Mannion and co have washed their hands of him. They think he's a 24 carat nut-case. He's splashed all over the front pages of the tabloids."

Sam peered over Malcolm's shoulder, as Reeder passed him the late edition of the morning paper.

"What's his name?" She enquired.

" _Tickel. Douglas Tickel....."_

oOo

Laying horizontally along the sofa. Head propped with cushions. TV playing quietly, although he wasn't really listening.

Ramsey the tom cat stretched out along his stomach and chest. Various furry bits of him overhanging.

Malcolm wasn't asleep, but he was bone tired. Idly scratching the animal's ears, as it purred loudly.

Sam was upstairs.

Seated on the bed. Thinking.

He hadn't failed to notice that she'd been quiet this last couple of days. Since they'd come back from their spa night at The Lees.

Tentatively asked if there was anything wrong, received a gentle but determined brush off.

Now he was concerned.

Afraid.

Very afraid.

 

Samantha Cassidy's mind was in somewhat of a turmoil.

Almost two years ago she'd found herself in the most unlikely of relationships.

One she'd imagined and dreamed about for a long time, but which she never thought would ever actually happen.

Malcolm was her employer first and foremost, then, gradually, her friend, eventually her lover, now.....it appeared, he was her _everything._

It was quite a startling revelation for her.

Something she hadn't really given much thought to until just recently.

Everything that could possibly be against their liaison had been thrown at them.

Their respective ages. His troubled past, which had become an horrific and real part of their present lives.  
Her own broken upbringing and young adulthood.  
The craziness of the job he did, his high profile, not to mention the fact that she now saw him practically every single day, both at the office and at home.

They were seldom apart.

Moving in with him had been the surprise package.

If she was brutally honest she didn't think it would work out......even though every atom of her being wanted it to be a success........she'd even consciously shied away from taking that step. She would have been quite content to continue as they were. For the time being anyway.

It was the reason she'd been so keen to hang on to her own flat.

But Malcolm wanted more. He'd expressed it when they'd escaped to France after the abuse story broke in the media.  
Always anxious to prove himself. Show her the depth of his devotion.  
He didn't push her exactly, but he was so insecure.

Terrified of giving all of himself, then being abandoned and crushed, yet again.

In her mind, at the time, she thought he wanted it more than she did, it meant so much to him, he admitted he'd got it bad.

Always so demanding. Not of her, but of himself.

He could never be too thoughtful, or kind. Never be loving enough, or suitably demonstrative.  
How he adored her! Constantly seeking affirmation, that he was worth her time and effort, that he needed her, wanted her. Nothing he wouldn't do.

The fact he'd been through so much. She'd witnessed him fall apart, the lid ripped off him so cruelly, but somehow manage to save himself, time and time again, with her help and support.

Then, lying next to him that evening at the spa, as he slept peacefully beside her, it all became shockingly clear.

A 'eureka' moment. It hit her like a bolt of lightning. The stark truth.

She'd 'got it' every bit as badly as him, wanted it just as much......if not more.

Couldn't live without him.

Didn't want to.

Needed him desperately. Relied on his love.

It scared the goddamn crap out of her.

oOo

A movement in the bedroom doorway made her jump.

"Sam? You okay? Why are you sitting up here alone in the dark?"

Her face was wet, tears had come and she hadn't realised.

Patting the duvet next to her, she tried to smile, he sat down at her side nervously. His eyes never leaving her's.

"What's up Sam? Have I done something?" He sounded so guilty, ready to voice an abject and grovelling apology for he knew not what.

"No." She whispered, taking his hand. "I realised something pretty fucking momentous, the other day. It's just taking me a little while to get my head around. That's all."

"Fuck! That sounds worrying......am I allowed to know what it is?" She could feel a tremble in his fingers as she held them.

"I'm not sure......I don't know how to tell you......how to put it into words.....it isn't easy....."

His face changed instantly.

Fear.

Standing up, he stepped a few paces away, his back towards her. Staring out of the window onto the darkened street.

His chest was heaving and sinking with rapid breaths, as he tried to stay calm in the face of rising panic.

Barely above a whisper....

"Fuck. Sam. I knew this would happen. I guess it was inevitable. But I thought we'd been so good......it was really working........"

The words tailed off.

His voice was a rasp. Thick with emotion.

Rising, she went to him. Threading her arms around him and pulling him towards her. His whole frame shook.

"No.....my darling, I think you've got hold of completely the wrong end of the stick......"

She looked up into his face, so stricken, chin wobbling as he fought to control himself.

"You......you haven't had enough of me? Don't want to end it.......? Fuck.....fuck.....Sam.......I can't take it.......fuck.......I feel sick......."

The stammer turned into a gush of pain and anguish, as he clutched her to him.

"Malcolm.....hush! No! That's not it at all.......listen.....come and sit down.....calm yourself, and please......don't get upset! God! This is so weird! Weird and terrifying all at once....."

He followed her meekly, sat himself beside her, he was a mess, fidgeting, biting his thumbnail, his head bowed as if in defeat, unable to articulate.  
Drawing him to her, holding him for several minutes without speaking, her hand rubbing his back gently. His head resting against her shoulder, the material of her blouse soaked there.

"It was when you were asleep......" She began, stroking the back of his neck gently, he raised his head to look at her, eyes swimming, darting across her face, desperately searching for an explanation, any crumb of comfort.

"When we were at The Lees, I realised something.....and it took me by surprise, rocked me to the core, because I wasn't expecting it, and it hit me right here......" She held a balled fist against her chest.

"Oh Malcolm, please don't look at me like that......I'm trying my best to explain......and it's difficult, I'm worried that it's too much for you......and you're going to throw a complete wobbly......but I feel that if I don't tell you I'll burst, and holding it in is making me feel odd......like I'm stifling myself......and I'm not being honest with you......you know?"

Reaching a hand to his face she cupped his cheek tenderly. Instantly he leaned into the touch, turning his mouth to the side and kissing her palm.

"I don't know what the hell you've done to me! A year ago I never even gave the future a single thought.....now.......now, I can't seem to think of anything else......."

"God! Sam.......fucking spit it out for Christ's sake.....I'm crumbling here........"

"I want us to be together always. I need you so much. There is never, nor will there ever be, someone else for me.  
It's you. You're it.  
Utterly and completely.  
I want to share the rest of our lives together, I want to commit to you, have kids with you.....if you want them that is.......be with you.  
For always......Malcolm......  
I have to tell you.......you know a few weeks ago, when I had that stomach bug? I thought I was pregnant.....carrying your child ........and I SO wanted it to be true, I knew really that it couldn't be, but I wanted it, so much.....I didn't say anything, but it must have started to dawn on me.......then the burglary! Oh God! Malc.......when I could have lost you.....now this......."

Her gaze fastened on his, her relief palpable, it was out, finally. She allowed a moment for the words to filter and sink in.

"Well say something, for goodness sake!" She began to sob uncontrollably. "Because if it's not what you want I'm fucked!"

Still he did not answer.

"I realise it's all so sudden.....it's floored me completely, I was petrified to say anything.....I don't know.....I didn't want to spoil it all.....put the cat amongst the pigeons. I mean.....I know we're great as we are, and I love what we have........but........"

"Fuck!" Was all he could muster.

"You don't. Do you? You're not ready.......or you can't see that far ahead......don't need to say anything or explain!" She held her hand up to stop him speaking.  
"I knew it was too much.......but I felt so strange.....like I was on the top of a rollercoaster.....you know, when your stomach goes all gooey and you feel sick, and you can't quite put your finger on the reason why......?"

She was babbling now, she knew it, never in her life had she felt such a bloody fool. Stumbling blindly in the dark. 

"I haven't ruined everything have I? Please! Say I haven't!" She prattled on. "Only its fine....I mean we're fine.....aren't we? As we are, I mean.....I don't necessarily need more......it's just that I bloody love you so.......and that's just got deeper and deeper......and I know I'm not making much sense right now........"

Taking her face in his hands, Malcolm fastened his mouth over her's.

"Shut the fuck up Sam!" He breathed, speaking with their lips almost touching.

The kiss was deep and long, a mixture of breathy sighs and whispered words of endearment.

It seemed that he was unable to stop, drawing her into his body, hands leaving her face, tracing down the length of her arms, then back to her face again urgently, leaning back slightly to look at her, then renewing his assault with more passion than before.  
Smothering her crying, his thumbs brushing away her tears.

"Sam! Sam!" He murmured, over and over. "Oh fuck......I fucking worship you.....you know that right? Is it true? Is that really what you want.....with me? Get married....have a kid?.......all that stuff?"

Pulling back he held her chin with one hand, raising it slightly so he could get a good look at her.

"Yeah. It is, Malcolm. If that's what you want too! Scary isn't it?"

"Fuck....yeah!"

"I couldn't understand it myself at first, the things I cared about so much previously, they don't seem to matter much anymore. The career, the material stuff.....it's just not important. You've done something to me......it's like I'm drunk, but I can see so clearly......like I'm wired.......it's ridiculous....but I know it's what I want.....I know it. It's you......you make me so happy......"

"Fuck.....Sam......I want it too.....more than anything......it's what I've always wanted......ALL I ever wanted......but I was afraid to push you.......didn't want to look too far ahead......it's dangerous you see, you get hurt......like I did with my wife....but since you moved in, I've dared to think it might happen.......but.......then I'd get all nervous and shy away from it. Christ! When you had that stomach bug, fuck it all Sam, I thought you might be expecting too.....I was so fucking happy.....delirious......then when you said you'd come on.......shit....I never said anything......I wasn't sure if you'd even want that......." 

As he spoke the kisses continued, down her throat and neck, then back to her lips, clinging to her as his hands fumbled and moved over her body.

Her head was tilted back now, as he gently lowered her backwards and down onto the duvet, his arms right around her, she clung to him in return, just as desperately.

As his hand moved south, his mouth trailed the same path.

"May I Sam? Make love to you? Let me.....please......."

Malcolm still had absolutely no notion of the way she was affected when he asked for her permission as he always did, it was the biggest turn on ever.....a thrill went right through her at his words.  
It wasn't purely the respect aspect, it was the fact that he would never take her answer for granted.

Her reply was to flip him over, straddling him, beginning to undress him seductively, starting with his shirt, unfastening it, untucking and pushing it to the sides, exposing his chest. Running her hands across his nipples and sternum as he watched her, transfixed.  
Then turning her fingers to her own blouse, undoing each button, revealing herself to him with relish.

When her fingers went to his belt buckle, he flinched, sucking in his tummy, so she let her fingers slide down inside his trousers instead of undoing them just grazing the tip of his hard cock, he groaned with aching lust, arching his hips towards her.  
Down came his fly, slowly, teasingly, easing him out, bending to close her mouth over him and suck gently.

Malcolm was gone.

Beyond speech or actions. His arms held up above his head, eyes shut tight. Trying to control his breathing and prevent himself coming too quickly in her mouth.

Releasing him, she went up onto her knees now, legs still either side of him, she shimmied her knickers down, just far enough, and replaced the warm damp of her lips, with the tight wetness of her cunt.

Sliding him inside her with a sigh, moving gently, undulating her body to both take and give the maximum pleasure.

"Fuck......FUCK......FUCK!" He was never going to last, but he did his best, with one final thrust he exploded, a loud moan of exhilaration.

She came herself as she felt him tremble helplessly beneath her.

"GOD! Fucking love you." He gasped, before his whole body seemed to deflate under her, spent, exhausted, but deliriously happy.

oOo 

"I'm thirstyyyy!" It was sometime later and Sam's whine came from deep against his chest where her head lay.

"Well get up and get a drink then!"

She groaned and wriggled.

"Can't you do it........?" Purring against him like a cat.

"Fuck off! I'm comfy!"

"Ohhhhhh!" She whinged again. "I'll do you rock-paper-scissors for it......."

"Oh okay......." Malcolm sighed.

They did it.

He did paper, she did scissors.

"Fuck my life!" He puffed out his cheeks, resigned, swinging his bare legs out of the bed and shuffling off to find his dressing gown.

 

oOo

"What are you doing here? Mannion's fucking lap dog?"

Malcolm glared with loathing at Philip Bartholomew Cornelius Smith, as he tried to sidle into the office unnoticed.

"I came to see Ollie." He replied, shifting nervously.

"Why? You fucking hate each other's guts! In fact I'd go as far as to say you're the fucking Kemp brothers. Spandau fucking Ballet!"

"I've got a message for him from Emma." He retorted, defensively.

"Ah! The lovely Emma! Fucking Elizabeth Bennett. Well, run along then.....go and find your Mr Poncing Titwank Darcy!"

Phil gratefully made his escape, and Malcolm returned to his desk.

Why come in person? Didn't they have text messaging in the Government?

Sam came to the doorway.

"What was that all about?" She enquired.

"Get in here.....quick.......and shut the door behind you!" Malcolm waved his hand to her urgently.

Puzzled, Sam obeyed without question, crossing to where he was seated.

"That fucker Reeder is up to something......Angela told me, Miller is grooming him for my job. I don't trust him as far as I can throw him. He's a long rasher of streaky bacon.....no fat, a lot of salt and no fucking nutrition! And now he's consorting with the likes of Phil Smith! The fucking vultures are circling!"

Sam held Malcolm's lapels, pulling him up to stand in front of her. Their faces close. Her voice was suddenly velvet soft, enticing.

"Then let him have your job, Malc." She touched her lips to his gently. "And let him think he's taking you up the arse in the process.....it'll give him the thrill of a lifetime. What do you care? He's playing with fire, darling, and he will be incinerated. We have us......more than he'll ever experience in a hundred Emma's......they are both as insipid as each other, like two cups of cold weak tea."

She was right. The thrill of his own potential impending demise, fear of the unknown, the excitement of an uncertain future, but with her at his side, it was a powerful aphrodisiac.

Malcolm mashed his lips fervently against her's with a possessive whimper of need, holding her forcefully, his tongue plundering her willing mouth.  
His face was wet when he pulled back, prick stiff in his trousers, his breathing rapid.  
Deeply aroused, his eyes burning, he went in for more.

"Ollie's not you Malcolm, he never could be.....he wouldn't last five minutes....."  
She gasped under his continued attentions.  
".......but for gods sake, watch your back.......between them......Miller, Fleming, Reeder......they'll murder you.....and it won't be a tidy neat bullet hole in the centre of your forehead, it'll be slash and rip with a cut throat razor.....they'll shred you to pieces if they can......."

Malcolm resumed his frantic snogging, without a word. Pressing himself against her, his body crowding her's.

"God! The thought of it makes me horny as fuck......Jesus! I want to take you.....right here, and fuck you so hard.......Christ Sam! I fucking love you......you're the most amazing woman......and you want to marry me? Have my child? Be with me.......? Urghh! Touch me for fucks sake, talk sexy to me........or just fucking tug me off........I need to come.....now........I need you to........"

She obeyed, amusement and excitement in her eyes, sliding her hand down between their bodies, palming him through his suit trousers. Then rubbing up and down his crotch deliberately.

Leaning into him, talking dirty to him, making him gasp with keen arousal.

"You're going to cream your boxers......I'm going to make you...." She whispered deliciously into his ear, the tip of her tongue licking the lobe gently. Slowly she lowered his zip. "........just imagine the feel of this warm tongue, circling your sensitive cock head, down to your balls, licking right where you need it most........mmmmmm......" Her hand was inside his trousers and pants now, but not taking him out. She began caressing him, under and behind his balls, up the length of his shaft, her thumb pressing against his leaking slit. "......think about being buried deep inside me........taking me from behind, can you imagine that Malcolm?..........me on all fours. Naked. All hot and wet.......and ready........just for y......."

He gave a convulsive jerk, a strangled cry, muffled against her skirt as his knees gave way and he sank down.  
She held him firmly as he rode it out. His head pressed into her crutch, trying to stifle his desperate moans.

Bending down beside him, his ejaculate covering the inside of his boxers and her hand. As he stilled, she put her arm around his head and neck, supporting his weight as he leaned bonelessly against her.

"Shit! Shit! I fucking need you." He choked.

She kissed him sweetly.

"Later Malcolm." She looked down at his damp underwear, withdrawing her hand. ".......right now, you'd better go to the gents......there's some clean pants in the bottom left hand drawer of my desk." She murmured gently.

"What about you......?" He looked up at her apologetically.

"I can wait Malcolm.......you can just imagine me.....wet and aching for you......all afternoon, and when we get home, you can make good your promise....."

"My promise......?"

She pressed her mouth against his ear again, making him shiver.

"Rock-paper-scissors....." Her voice was silken and seductive.

Their eyes locked. They did it.

He showed scissors, she showed paper.

He won.

She smiled shyly, gave him a little wink.

"Tonight you can give me _'what for_ '........" She cooed softly.

Malcolm began to laugh, despite still regaining his ragged breath.

"You fucking filthy minx!" He growled.

 

On his way down the corridor to the toilet he met Ollie coming towards his office.

"You'll never guess what Malcolm!" He exclaimed, with morbid excitement.

"What is it......Forrest Gimp?" Malcolm eyed him fiercely.

"That Mr Tickel........he's fucking gone and topped himself!" He announced.

 

Fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has read and enjoyed the story. Who have stuck with it and messaged me to give their kind comments. You are all so kind.
> 
> This Shitstorm AU story is not over. There are threads I've begun in this story that will carry over to the next. 
> 
> It will continue in a new multichapter set after the Goolding Enquiry.
> 
> I'm not going to write the Enquiry itself. It has been written so many times and everyone knows what happens.
> 
> So, keep a lookout for 'Malcolm Hamish McDeath'........coming soon!


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